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LEISURE  HOUR  SERIES— No.  g8 


GADDINGS  WITH 
APRIMITIVE  PEOPLE 

BEING  A  SER/ES  OF  SKETCHES  OF 

TYROLESE  LIFE  AND  CUSTOMS 


BY 


W.   A.   BAILLIE  GROHMAN 


NEW  YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1878 


Copyright  1878, 

BY 

Henry  Holt  &  Co. 


:p5 


dzH- 


TO 
THE  KEENEST  OF  ROYAL   SPORTSMEN, 

ERNEST  II., 

REIGNING   DUKE   OF   SAXE-COBURG-GOTHA,   KNIGHT  OF 
THE   GARTER,    ETC.,  ETC., 

IN    HUMBLE  ACKNOWLEDGMENT  AND  GRATEFUL 
REMEMBRANCE   OF 

THE   KIND   HOSPITALITY 

EXPERIENCED    AT     HIS     HANDS    BY 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PUBLISHERS'   NOTE. 


THE  advance-sheets  of  Mr.  Grohman's  "  Gaddings  with 
A  Primitive  People"  contained  so  much  of  merit,  that 
the  attention  of  those  who  were  considering  the  advisabihty 
of  publishing  the  book  in  America  was  stimulated  toward 
the  author's  earlier  work  entitled  "Tyrol  and  the  Ty- 
ROLESE."  It  was  ultimately  concluded  that,  whatever  might 
be  the  success  in  this  country  of  either  book  alone,  a 
greater  success  would  certainly  attend  a  volume  containing 
the  best  points  of  both. 

In  attempting,  however,  to  arrange  such  a  volume,  the 
realization  was  soon  reached,  that  all  the  points  were  too 
good  to  lose ;  and  the  result  was  that,  with  the  exception  of 
repetitions,  the  substance  of  both  books  is  contained  in  the 
one  here  presented. 

In  combining  the  two  masses  of  material  into  an  organic 
whole,  some  parts  naturally  fell  out  of  the  original  sequence. 
Moreover,  as  the  later  book  could  not,  before  publication, 
have  the  benefit  of  the  revision  which  the  call  for  a  second 
edition  had  secured  for  the  first  one,  some  effort  was  made 
during  the  re-arrangement  to  give  it  such  a  benefit,  especially 
in  particulars  where  its  style  differed  unfavorably  from  that 
of  the  book  which  the  author  had  revised.  In  addition,  a 
careful  index  has  been  substituted  for  the  detailed  tables  of 
contents  given  in  the  original  works. 

The  place  among  American  publications  into  which,  after 


VI  PUBLTSHERS'  NOTE. 

some  vicissitudes,  the  advance-slieets  of  "  Gaddings  with  a 
Primitive  People"  ultimately  fell,  required  that  the  book 
should  be  published,  if  at  all,  before  it  would  be  possible  to 
communicate  with  the  author  regarding  the  changes.  While 
the  present  book  was  in  press,  however,  a  strange  testimonial 
to  the  judiciousness  of  its  preparation  was  received  from 
a  notice  of  "  Gaddings  with  a  Primitive  People  "  in  the 
London  AthenJEum,  where  an  entirely  independent  critic 
suggested  the  very  proceedings  which  had  already  resulted 
in  the  preparation  of  this  volume.  It  is  but  fair,  though, 
that  its  American  sponsors  should  assume  the  blame  for 
any  infelicities  of  arrangement  that  may  attract  attention, 
and  bespeak  for  the  author  the  praise  which,  they  feel  con- 
fident, the  reader  will  often  be  moved  to  bestow. 
New  York,  July  i,  1878. 


PREFACE. 


"  Knowing  that  Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her," 

I  VENTURE  to  express  the  humble  hope  that  "  Gaddings 
with  a  Primitive  People  "  will  be  received  by  my  readers 
in  the  spirit  in  which  it  is  written. 

Written  out  as  all  Alpine  subjects  are  reputed  to  be,  I 
would  modestly  point  out  that  this  impeachment  only  holds 
good  as  regards  surface  matter ;  for,  to  speak  of  the  country 
I  am  now  describing,  not  one  but  many  volumes  could  be 
compiled,  had  one  the  wish  to  do  full  justice  to  all  that  is 
strange,  quaint,  and  out-of-the-way,  in  the  "  Land  in  the 
Mountains." 

Let  this  volume  be  accepted  as  a  feeble  attempt  to  do  this. 
If  it  fails,  the  pen  assuredly  has  caused  the  failure ;  if  it 
succeeds,  the  subject  has  wrought  success. 

A  few  years  more,  and  the  national  scenes  I  have  depicted 
here  will  be  tales  of  the  past.  High  pressure  civilization, 
and  that  curse  of  modern  creation,  the  traveling  tourist,  are 
fast  dismantling  Tyrol  of  the  charm  of  primitive  seclusion 
no  less  than  of  the  time-hallowed  customs  and  relics  of 
mediaeval  life,  that  to  me  have  formed  its  chief  attraction. 

One  point  is  left,  upon  which  I  think  it  right  to  offer  some 
explanation,  especially  to  those  of  my  readers  whose  views 
respecting  the  salutary  influence  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  upon  a  people,  and  especially  upon  the  lower  ranks 


viii  PREFACE. 

of  society,  differ  from  those  which  they  will  find  I  betray  on 
one  or  two  occasions. 

Let  the  reader  remember  throughout  this  volume,  that  it 
is  not  intolerance  or  a  spirit  of  antagonism,  based  on  pre- 
judice, that  leads  me  to  speak  as  I  do  of  the  disastrous 
results  of  the  Roman  Catholic  rule  in  Tyrol.  Nor  is  it  in 
mere  caviling  at  the  ordinances  of  a  creed,  when,  moved  by 
the  sight  of  an  intelhgent  race  chained  down  by  an  over- 
bearing and  intolerant  Church,  I  perhaps  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  that  I  am  myself  but  an  intruder  who,  to  begin  with,  is 
bound  to  respect  the  ordinances  of  the  people  among  whom 
he  has  chosen  to  reside.  But  it  is  just  my  long  residence 
that  urges  me  to  forget  that  circumstance ;  for  not  only  have 
I  been  taught  to  respect  the  people  for  their  upright  and 
manly  qualities  of  character,  but  my  sympathy  has  been 
enlisted  by  their  unhappy  thralldom  in  the  ever-dark  dungeon 
of  ignorance.  Only  a  very  intimate  acquaintance  with  them 
will  show  one  to  what  an  extent  the  two  chief  blemishes 
upon  the  national  character  —  bigotry,  and  laxity  of  morals 
—  must  be  ascribed  to  the  policy  pursued  by  the  Roman 
Curia  in  this  her  chief  stronghold. 

ScHLOSS  Matzen,  Brixlegg,  Tyroi.> 
April,  1878. 


PREFACE   TO   THE   SECOND   EDITION   OF 
TYROL  AND   THE   TYROLESE, 

WHICH   BOOK   IS   INCORPORATED   IN  THE   PRESENT  VOLUME. 


IN  laying  the  second  edition  of  " Tyrol  and  the  Tyrolese  " 
before  the  public,  it  becomes  my  duty  —  one  of  the  most 
pleasant  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  an  author  —  to  express  my 
sense  of  gratitude  for  the  kind  praise  bestowed  on  my  book. 

In  preparing  the  second  edition,  I  have  taken  pains  to 
remedy  the  errors  and  misprints  that  had  crept  in  ;  and  noth- 
ing would  be  left  for  me  to  say,  were  it  not  my  wish  to  touch 
upon  a  charge  brought  by  my  reviewers,  not  against  me,  but, 
what  is  tantamount  to  it  in  my  eyes,  against  the  people  of 
"  the  Land  in  the  Mountains." 

This  race,  my  critics  sa}-,  are,  according  to  the  account  I 
give  of  them,  a  treacherously  cruel  people.  It  is  naturally 
difficult  to  refute  a  charge  of  this  kind  in  the  face  of  the 
ample  evidence  of  the  rough  and  shaggy  coat  that  hides  the 
finer  points  of  the  Tyrolese  character  from  the  gaze  of  the 
stranger.  I  must  beg  them,  however,  to  remember  that  in 
bringing  out  the  national  character  as  fully  as  I  did,  I  was 
mainly  prompted  by  the  wish  to  convey  a  perfectly  truthful 
picture  to  my  reader's  mind.  This  desire  led  me,  I  am 
afraid,  to  dwell  too  long  upon  the  dark  sides  of  the  ques- 
tion :  roughness  and  a  certain  freedom  of  morals. 


X  PREFACE    TO    THE  SECOND  EDITION. 

Eye-gouging  and  biting  off  one's  opponent's  fingers,  rarely 
as  these  casualties  occur  now-a-days  in  Tyrol,  are  undoubt- 
edly cruel  and  reprehensible  expedients  in  a  free  fight ;  but 
let  me  ask  my  critics,  would  they  call  the  English  a  treacher- 
ous and  cruel  people  because  in  England  kicking  a  wife  to 
death,  or  brutally  ill-treating  a  defenseless  man,  are  daily 
occurrences  ? 

The  amount  of  respect  shown  to  the  female  sex  is  gener- 
ally considered  to  be  a  true  criterion  for  the  nobleness  of 
man's  character ;  and  if  this  rule  is  allowed  to  hold  good  for 
nations  at  large,  I  have  to  own.  Englishman  as  I  am,  that 
the  Tyrolese  need  not  dread  a  comparison.  Whatever  be 
the  faults  of  the  stanch  old  race  dwelling  in  the  recesses  of 
the  Tyrolese  Alps,  treacherous  or  cowardly  cruelty  certainly 
does  not  rank  amongst  them. 

London,  July,  1877. 


PREFACE  TO  THE   FIRST   EDITION   OF 
TYROL   AND   THE   TYROLESE, 

WHICH    BOOK    IS    INCORPOR-VrED    IN    THE    PRESENl'   VOLUME. 


A  CERTAIN  value  may,  I  hope,  be  imparted  to  this  vol- 
ume by  the  fact  that  I  have  Hved  for  many  years  in  the 
Tyrol,  and  being  by  parentage  half  an  Austrian,  and  as  well 
acquainted  witli  the  German  language  as  with  my  mother 
tongue,  am  therefore  more  likely  to  gain  a  true  insight  into 
the  lives  and  characters  of  the  Tyrolese  than  most  writers 
on  the  same  subject,  who  have  not  this  advantage. 

My  love  for  sport  and  a  sound  bodily  constitution  have 
gone  hand  in  hand  in  enabling  me  to  acquire  an  accurate 
acquaintance  with  the  rougli  fashions  of  this  picturesque 
country ;  and  as  they  have  brought  me  across  many  an  odd 
character  lost  to  the  world  in  some  out-of-lhe-way  nook 
among  these  little-known  mountains  and  valleys,  I  have  had 
many  adventures,  some  of  which  I  have  endeavored  to  relate 
in  the  following  pages. 

It  seems  that  some  question  lias  been  raised  relative  to 
the  spelling  of  the  word  Tyrol.  Without  wishing  to  enter 
more  fully  into  the  merits  of  the  controversy,  1  may  mention 
that  Tyrol  was  up  to  the  beginning  of  this  century,  with 
hardly  any  exception,  spelled  with  a  "y."  It  is  only  within 
tlie  last  fifty  or  sixty  years  tiiat  the  letter  "  1 "  has  supplanted 

xi 


XU  PREFACE    TO    THE  FIRST  EDITION. 

it ;  and  at  present  we  find  that  the  word  is  generally  spelled 
Tirol.  The  fact  that  a  nvunber  of  geographical  names  have 
undergone  in  this  half-century  precisely  the  same  change  as 
the  word  Tyrol,  and  that  the  "foreign"  letter  "y"  is  hardly 
ever  used  by  Germans,  does  not  render  the  spelling  of  the 
word  Tirol  less  incorrect;  for  we  must  remember  through- 
out this  whole  question  that  the  derivation  of  Tyrol  is  not, 
as  many  suppose,  from  "  Terioles,"  but  from  "  Tyr,"  a  "for- 
tress in  the  mountains,"  in  which  sense  we  find  it  in  use  as 
early  as  the  ninth  centuiy. 

I  may  finally  remark  that  two  of  the  chapters  in  this  vol- 
ume have  appeared  in  the  shape  of  sketches  in  "  The  Alpine 
Journal." 

ScHLOSs  Matzen,  Brixlegg,  Tyrol. 
December,  1875. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  The  Schloss,  the  Landscape,  and  the  People,  i 

II.  The  Paradise  Play 29 

III.  The  Chamois  and  the  Chamois-Stalker.    .    .  55 

IV.  An  Encounter  with  Tyrolese  Poachers     .    .  72 
V.  The  Blackcock 86 

VI.  Priesthood  and  Superstition 98 

VII.  Alpine  Characters:  the  Village  Priest     .    .  in 
VIII.  Alpine  Characters:  the  Village  Schoolmas- 
ter    131 

IX.  Alpine     Characters:     the    Antiquarian     in 

Tyrol iS3 

X.  Alpine  Characters:  the  Woodcutter     .    .    .  171 

XI.  Alpine  Characters:  the  Smuggler 190 

XII.  Alpine  Characters  :  the  Mountain  Belle  .     .  20S 

XIII.  A  Peasant's  Wedding 230 

XIV.  More  about  Weddings  in  the  Alps     ....  250 
XV.  A  Tyrolese  "Kirchtag"  and  Rifle-Match     .  273 

XVI.  A   Visit   to   a  Tyrolese    Peasant  Watkring- 

Place 2S9 

XVII.  The  Golden  Eagle  and  its  ^rie 316 

XVIII.  An  Alpine  Walk 333 

XIX.  A  Winter  Ascent  of  the  Gross  Glockner     .  361 

APPENDIX. 

Additional  Details  of  Marriage  Customs     .    •    ■    •  377 


GADDINGS   WITH   A   PRIMITIVE 
PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE    SCIILOSS,   THE   LANDSCAPE,   AND   THE   PEOPLE. 

THE  table  I  am  uTiting  on  is  a  worm-eaten  structure 
of  unwieldy  shape,  adorned  with  Renaissance  carving, 
and  provided  with  numberless  drawers  and  strange  out-of- 
the-way  secret  springs.  The  chair  I  occupy  is  of  com- 
fortable but  highly  anticjuated  build;  its  dingy  leather 
cover,  studded  at  the  sides  with  massive  embossed  nails, 
once  formed  part  of  the  primitive  furniture  in  one  of  the 
favorite  castle  shooting-boxes  of  that  enthusiastic  royal 
sportsman  of  the  later  Middle  Ages,  —  the  Emperor  Maxi- 
milian I.  The  very  air  I  breathe  is  that  of  bygone  cen- 
turies. The  grim  time-worn  tower  of  huge  proportions, 
looming  into  the  room  through  the  broad  low  window 
glazed  with  diamond-shaped  panes,  was  the  work  of 
Roman  stonemasons.  It  marked  the  strong  and  histori- 
cally well-known  "  station  "  Masciacum,  on  the  high  road 
from  barbaric  Germany  to  civilized  Italy.  In  the  clois- 
tered courtyard  once  pranced  the  barbed  steeds  of  the 
powerful  knights,  —  von  Frundsberg,  the  martial  fore- 
father of  a  warlike  descendant ;  the  great  Condotticri,  of 
the  sixtccntli  century ;  and  burly  Georg  von  Frundsberg, 


2         CADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

whose  "  children,"  as  he  loved  to  term  his  savage,  un- 
ruly troopers,  the  famed  and  dreaded  "  Landsknechte," 
played  such  a  conspicuo\is  role  at  the  sack  of  Rome.  In 
the  deep  rock-hewn  cellars  of  amazing  depth  and  size 
were  stored  the  rich  vintages  of  Italy  and  the  East,  with 
which  the  Rothschilds  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  Fugger 
and  Fiegers  of  Augsburg  and  Niirnberg,  the  successors 
of  the  Frundsbergs,  entertained  their  princely  guests. 
The  vaulted  hall  rang  with  the  voices  of  half  a  dozen  gen- 
erations of  the  richest  and  most  notable  families  of  the 
country.  And  now  what  is  left  of  all  the  glory  of  by- 
gone centuries,  of  all  the  sumptuous  fittings-up  of  this 
abode  of  feudal  wealth  ?  Nothing  !  The  shell  of  the  old 
caslle,  it  is  true,  still  stands,  and  the  Roman  tower,  stained 
with  the  antique  tint  of  some  sixteen  or  seventeen  centu- 
ries, has  withstood  time,  no  less  than  the  two  old  bells 
hanging  in  a  miniature  belfry,  open  on  all  sides  to  the 
keen  blast  of  furious  winter  gales  which  at  weird  hours  of 
the  night  set  them  ringing  in  a  dismal  fashion,  and  have 
served  in  no  little  measure  to  transform  the  ruin  into  the 
reputed  haunt  of  hobgoblins  and  specters,  —  a  reputa- 
tion which  the  paneless  windows,  the  battered  roof,  and 
general  aspect  of  utter  decay  did  not  tend  to  remove. 
Alas  !  Time,  fierce  wars,  and  a  destructive  fire  have 
united  to  convert  the  once  noble  castle  into  a  shapeless, 
burnt-out  shell.  So  have  been  reduced  hundreds  of  its 
kindred  that  were  once  the  mighty  strongholds  of  power- 
ful Tyrolese  nobles  more  famous  than  the  notorious  Rhen- 
ish knights  for  their  warlike  spirit,  and  for  their  daring 
deeds  of  highwaymanry. 

Lost  in  a  deep  revery,  a  stranger  once  stood,  one  balmy 
Sei:)tember  evening  some  four  years  ago,  at  a  window  on  the 
top  floor  of  this  building.  It  evidently  had  been  once  an 
oriel  window  of  noble  proportions,  and  provided  in  front 
with  a  small  balcony  standing  out  over  a  giddy  height 
and  overlooking  the  whole  country  near.  Ruthless  hands 
had  wrecked  it  for  the  sake  of  its  marble,  and  had 
wrenched  the  solid  fluted  framework  of  the  same  material 
from  the  massive  masonry.     The  jagged,  irregular  orifice 


THE  SCHLOSS,   LANDSCAPE,  AND  PEOPLE.       3 

which  remained  in  the  thick  wall  served  as  a  frame  in 
picturesque  liarmony  with  the  lovely  landscape  rolled  oul 
at  his  feet :  in  the  foreground  the  silver  streak  of  the 
swift  "  Inn ;  "  at  both  sides  the  lofty  mountains  whose 
wooded  offshoots  sweep  down  to  it  in  undulating  lines  of 
rare  beauty,  each  one  diffused  and  rendered  distinct  by  a 
different  autumnal  tint,  such  as  one  can  only  see  in  the 
High  Alps.  In  the  background,  a  chain  of  glacier  peaks 
bounds  the  picture. 

The  broad  Innvalley  lying  in  calm  loveliness  at  his  feet 
conjures  up  visions  of  bygone  times,  when  through  this 
very  valley,  and  in  two  or  three  others  of  Tyrol's  chief 
vales,  ran  the  most  noted  high  roads  of  commerce,  con- 
necting the  civilized  world  of  Italy  with  the  barbaric  north. 

This  very  road,  winding  along  the  fertile  expanse  in 
pleasing  curves,  was  made  nigh  upon  eighteen  hundred 
years  ago  for  the  Roman  legions  advancing  northward 
slowly  but  surely.  Along  it  sprang  up  the  strongly  forti- 
fied stations  so  well  known  to  the  historian  as  the  mile- 
stones of  civilization.  The  grim  old  tower  lording  over 
this  castle  is  one  of  them ;  and  in  the  distance  are  two 
more,  both  marking  the  site  of  feudal  strongholds  that 
centuries  later  were  erected  round  their  base  by  the  serfed 
villains  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Following  the  early  caravans 
of  armed  traders,  came  the  motley  array  of  Crusaders, 
and  at  their  heels  trooped  the  turbulent  armies  of  the 
great  Hohenstauffen  Emperors,  one  and  all  pressing  south- 
wards ;  the  one  having  for  its  visionary  goal  the  Holy 
Shrine,  the  other,  the  vast  Roman  Empire. 

Tyrol's  grand  history  aids  the  imagination,  and  gives 
birth  to  visions  as  romantic  as  they  are  profuse.  Its  posi- 
tion close  to  the  old  Bavarian  frontier  made  it  in  olden 
times  the  constant  scene  of  strife  and  warfare.  Sieges  as 
sanguinary  as  they  were  j)rotracted  tried  the  mettle  of 
the  warlike  old  race  of  Frundsbergers.  We  hear  of  one 
of  them,  valiant  Ulrich,  defending  Castle  Matzin  for 
seven  long  weeks  against  a  large  Bavarian  army  intent 
upon  reducing  the  stronghold  that  barred  the  way  to  the 
rich  and  fertile   Unter   Innlhal,  their  favorite  resort  foi 


4         GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

plunder.  We  see  the  last  of  that  mighty  race,  the  ill- 
starred  Hohenstauff  Conradin,  in  whom  were  centered 
his  partisan's  most  ambitious  i^injects,  pass  under  our 
window,  the  youthful  but  proudly  dominant  commander 
of  that  huge  army  of  thousands  of  chainmailed  knights, 
the  noblest  that  mighty  Germany  possessed,  and  all  as 
eager  as  their  juvenile  king  to  wrench  the  crown  of  Naples 
from  his  traitor  uncle.  We  watch  the  vast  train  wind- 
ing serpent  fashion  through  the  sunny  vale  at  our  feet, 
and  our  eyes  rest  upon  the  slim  boyish  figure  of  the  royal 
youth,  and  on  that  of  his  former  playmate,  now  friend 
and  banneret  knight,  Frederic  of  Frundsberg,  the  no  less 
youthful  owner  of  our  old  ruin,  then  a  proud  feudal  cas- 
tle. From  the  very  window  we  now  occupy,  his  doting 
mother,  the  noble  Lady  Elizabeth,  probably  waved  him 
her  last  adieu.  Alas  !  weary  were  the  hours  and  days  she 
stood  here  watching  for  the  return  of  her  much-loved 
son  ;  and  many  more  were  the  suns  that  rose  and  set  ere 
she  learnt  that  her  boy,  like  most  of  his  companions  in 
arms,  fell  for  the  cause  of  his  royal  friend  Conradin, 
whose  lamentable  end  imder  the  executioner's  axe,  on 
the  market-place  at  Naples,  forms  the  most  tragic  episode 
in  the  tragic  history  of  his  mighty  race. 

The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  were  tingeing  the  far-off 
glaciers  a  roseate  hue,  and  the  evening  bells  of  two  dis- 
tant churches  were  blending  their  melodious  sounds,  when 
the  lonely  stranger  whose  train  of  thought  we  have  been 
following  turned  away  from  his  lofty  point  of  view,  and 
after  traversing  suites  of  empty  rooms,  dismally  gaunt  and 
spectral  in  the  dusk,  slowly  descended  flight  upon  flight 
of  creaking  stairs,  and  finally  stepped  out  into  the  clois- 
tered courtyard.  It  was  surrounded  on  three  sides  by 
lofty  buildings,  while  on  the  fourth  loomed  the  Roman 
tower.  The  ground  was  strewn  with  the  marble  fragments 
—  covered  by  lichen,  and  embedded  in  tall  grass  —  of  the 
large  well  that  once  had  adorned  its  center.  The  mass- 
ive portal  of  huge  beams,  iron-plated  on  the  outside, 
stood  open,  and  through  the  covered  gateway  a  flood  of 
golden  evening   light  permeated  the   deep  dusk   of  the 


THE  SCI/LOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND  PEOPLE.        5 

romantic  court.  A  smile  of  pleasure  flits  over  the  wan- 
derer's face  ;  and  when,  after  some  little  time,  he  leaves 
the  picturesque  old  castle,  a  resolution  seems  stamped 
upon  his  brow.  Before  twenty-four  hours  have  elapsed, 
the  venerable  pile  has  changed  hands,  and  a  new  era 
dawns  for  it ;  four  years  have  altered  its  interior  aspect, 
though  not  its  exterior,  which  has  lost  none  of  that  look 
of  moldy  age  so  dear  to  the  lover  of  the  old ;  the  anti- 
quarian taste  of  its  owner  has  rendered  it  at  least  inhabit- 
able ;  and  glancing  up  from  his  writing,  and  allowing  his 
eyes  to  rove  over  the  lovely  landscape  visible  through  the 
renovated  oriel  window,  a  smile  of  gratification  flits  over 
his  face  as  he  recalls  to  himself  the  pleasant  excitement 
incidental  to  this  his  first  trophy  of  curiosity-hunting  in 

TjTOl. 

It  may  well  amaze  even  those  who  have  been  whirled 
in  the  train  through  the  two  or  three  chief  valleys  of 
Tyrol,  to  learn  that  this  country,  with  a  population  con- 
siderably less  than  half  that  of  Yorkshire,  contains  five 
hundred  and  thirty-seven  old  castles. 

These  Tyrolese  castles  form  so  picturesque  a  feature 
in  scenery  nearly  always  grand  and  striking,  that  the  in- 
dulgent reader  will  excuse  my  inviting  him  to  visit  one 
of  their  number  ere  I  lay  before  him  the  results  of  my 
experience  amongst  the  people.  To  this  end  he  will 
kindly  accompany  me  up  the  steep  path  leading  to  the 
ponderous  iron-barred  old  gate  giving  entrance  to  one  of 
the  most  ancient  and  historically  interesting  of  Tyrolese 
castles,  —  the  home  of  this  volume,  —  and  after  ascending 
endless  flights  of  stairs,  find  himself  comfortably  seated 
in  an  armchair  in  front  of  the  broad  old  fashioned  win- 
dow overlooking  the  whole  of  the  country  near. 

Lying  at  your  feet  is  a  goodly  stretch  of  the  smiling, 
exquisitely  verdant  valley  of  the  Inn,  skirted  by  two 
parallel  rows  of  noble  peaks  terminating  in  the  far  dis- 
tance with  the  glistening  glacier  world  of  the  Oetz  ana 
Stubai  Thaler. 

As  your  eye  glancQS  down  the  giddy  height  and  follows 


6         GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

the  upward  course  of  the  broad  swift  Inn  at  your  feet,  as  it 
winds  like  a  band  of  silver  through  green  meadows,  eight 
old  castles,  the  remains  of  what  were  once  feudal  strong- 
holds, occupying  the  eminences  of  hills,  or  perched  like 
swallows'  nests  on  the  precipitous  slopes  of  the  adjacent 
mountains,  become  discernible.  Interspersed  between 
these  hoary  relics  rise  the  amazingly  slender,  needle- 
shaped  spires  of  three  churches,  the  houses  belonging  to 
each  village  clustering  round  the  sacred  edifice.  Of  the 
broad-roofed  houses,  hidden  behind  groves  of  apple  or 
nut-trees,  little  is  to  be  seen ;  and  of  such  as  are  visible, 
the  greater  part  are  of  the  velvety-brown  timber  which 
is  so  sunny  and  pleasing  to  the  eye.  Only  the  blue  rings 
of  smoke  curling  up  in  the  gloriously-tinted  evening 
sky  indicate  the  presence  of  human  habitations  secreted 
behind  bowers  of  trees.  Fancy  a  dark  green  background 
of  precipitously  rising  mountains,  covered  with  somber 
pine  forest,  terminating  in  the  gray  cliffs  that  form  the 
eminences,  thereby  bringing  the  rich  vegetation  of  the 
verdant  valley  into  close  contrast  with  the  sternness  of 
the  impending  peaks,  and  you  have  the  type  of  a  peace- 
ful sunny  North  Tyrolese  landscape. 

I  say  North  Tyrolese,  for  Tyrol,  divided  into  halves  by 
the  high  snow-peaked  main  chain  of  the  Alps,  represents, 
taken  as  a  whole,  two  geographically  distinct  countries. 
North  Tyrol  can  be  identified  to  all  practical  purposes 
with  the  German  cantons  of  Switzerland,  having  an 
Alpine  climate,  while  the  South,  with  its  vineyards  and  its 
genial  air,  is  akin  to  fertile  Italy.  This  perfect  dissimi- 
larity of  Northern  to  Southern  Tyrol  renders  a  cursory 
glance  at  the  physical  appearance  of  the  latter  indispens- 
able in  order  to  form  a  faithful  conception  of  the  whole 
country. 

Removing  our  chair  of  observation  to  a  window  of  any 
one  of  the  numerous  castles  of  Meran  in  South  Tyrol, 
we  have,  though  at  a  distance  of  scarcely  more  than 
seventy-five  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  from  our  former 
point  of  view,  a  landscape  before  our  eyes  as  different 
from  the  first  as  it  well  can  be. 


THE  SCHLOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AA'D  PEOPLE.        J 

To  the  painter's  palette  supplied  with  various  shades 
of  green  and  gray  suflicient  to  depict  North  Tyrolese 
scenery,  we  have  to  add  the  blue,  yellow,  and  mauve  of 
Italian  landscape. 

The  number  of  castles  in  our  picture  has  increased 
from  eight  to  five  and  twenty  or  thirty.  The  rich  ver- 
dant pasturages  are  supplanted  either  by  scrubby  brush- 
wood scorched  to  a  somber  brown,  or  by  large  expanses 
of  vineyards,  while  the  dark  green  peaceful  pine  forests 
have  been  replaced  by  the  stunted  fir  of  a  brownish  tint, 
or  by  the  ashy  white  dolomite  rocks,  unrelieved  by  a 
single  patch  of  green.  In  the  valleys,  again,  the  simple 
cherry  and  apple-tree  have  given  way  to  the  far  more 
variegated  and  luxurious  vegetation  of  a  warmer  zone, 
producing,  of  course,  a  greater  diversity  in  colors  than  is 
created  in  the  northern  parts  by  the  two  or  three  shades 
of  green  peculiar  to  Alpine  vegetation. 

Gigantic  chestnut  and  nut-trees,  ivy-clad  ruins,  and 
venerable  old  castles  in  a  good  state  of  preservation,  in 
the  foreground,  with  gardens  and  vineyards,  surmounted 
by  ashy-toned  cliffs,  in  the  background,  are  the  charac- 
teristics of  South  Tyrolese  scenery. 

If,  with  regard  to  the  Tyrolese  themselves,  the  experi- 
ence of  many  years  spent  in  Tyrol  gives  me  a  right  to 
express  an  opinion  varying  somewhat  from  those  of  many 
authors,  I  must  say  that  I  have  found  the  Tyrolese  in 
matters  of  daily  life  a  highly  intelligent,  bold,  and  exces- 
sively hard-working  people,  distinguished,  even  from  the^ 
inhabitants  of  other  mountainous  countries,  by  great 
patriotism  and  by  an  innate  unquenchable  love  for  their 
native  soil,  enhanced  by  a  strangely  chivalrous  feeling  of 
manly  independence.  Regarding  their  warlike  spirit,  — 
fostered,  to  a  great  extent,  by  their  strong  attachment  to 
the  Hapsburg  dynasty,  —  we  need  but  refer  to  the  endless 
wars  in  which  the  Tyrolese  were  involved  from  the  very 
earliest  times  down  to  the  present  day.  In  the  Middle 
Ages  the  country  was  hardly  ever  in  a  state  of  peace 
from  external  or  internal  foes.  Not  only  was  it  sur- 
rounded on   four  sides  by  dire  enemies,  the  Venetians, 


^  GADDTNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Italians,  Swiss,  and  Bavarians ;  but  the  broad  Inn  and 
the  sunny  Adige  valley,  connected  by  one  of  the  lowest 
passes  over  the  Alps,  formed  the  chief  high  road  between 
civilized  Italy  and  rough  Germany.  Not  only  was  this 
highway,  paved  by  Nature  herself,  used  for  commerce, 
accompanied,  however,  by  a  calamitous  system  of  rapa- 
cious highwaymanry,  but  it  was  also  constantly  crossed 
and  recrossed  by  victorious  or  defeated  armies  marching 
to  or  returning  from  Italy.  Whether  these  armies  were 
hostile  or  friendly  to  the  Tyrolese,  the  results  were  always 
disastrous  to  the  highway. 

There  are,  indeed,  few  countries  that  have  suffered 
from  war  and  its  dire  calamities  so  much  as  Tyrol ;  and 
though  its  affairs  occupy  but  a  small  space  in  the  history 
of  Europe,  yet  to  the  student  they  afford  quite  as  rich  a 
field  for  research  as  the  history  of  many  a  mighty  and 
powerful  kingdom. 

Great  heroism  distinguished  the  Tyrolese  on  every 
occasion,  generally  indeed  bringing  them  out  the  victors 
against  odds.  Their  great  power  of  endurance,  superior 
muscular  force,  indomitable  courage,  and  a  certain  love 
for  fighting  and  hard  knocks,  have,  since  the  time  when 
the  generals  of  Charles  V.  and  Maximilian  recruited  their 
best  soldiers  from  the  country,  gained  them  high  repute, 
quite  apart  from  their  deadly  marksmanship,  which  even 
Napoleon's  best  generals  and  picked  troops  could  not 
withstand. 

Nothing  demonstrates  their  innate  love  for  their  native 
soil  more  signally  than  the  fact  that,  while  in  other  coun- 
tries a  portion  of  the  inhabitants  emigrate  to  more  propi- 
tious territories,  a  genuine  Tyrolese  very  rarely  indeed 
leaves  his  country  for  good.  When  their  great  purpose 
of  life,  the  accumulation  of  small  fortunes,  as  peddlers, 
musicians,  or  in  other  vocations,  is  accomplished,  they 
never  fail  to  return  to  their  home,  and,  settling  down  in 
their  native  valley,  enjoy  the  well-earned  fruits  of  their 
industry. 

There  is  something  very  pleasing  in  this  attachment  to 
the  home  soil,  which  carries  a  man  steadfastly  through 


THE  sen  LOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND   PEOI^LE.       9 

difficulties,  and  incites  him  to  overcome  tlie  ups  and 
downs  of  a  wandering  life,  and  lands  him  at  last,  after 
twenty  or  five  and  twenty  years'  toil,  in  the  promised  land 
of  his  desires.  It  seems  strange  to  meet  in  some  remote 
corner  of  Tyrol  men  who,  in  the  course  of  their  constant 
travels,  have  acquired  a  certain  polish  of  manners  as  well 
as  a  quite  unlooked-for  intelligence  of  thought  and  apti- 
tude of  expression. 

To  be  addressed  by  one  of  these  traveled  TjTolese, 
dressed  maybe  in  the  very  roughest  of  national  cos- 
tumes, perhaps  even  without  a  coat  on  his  back  or  shoes 
to  his  feet,  in  the  North  German  dialect,  or  in  French  or 
English,  is  indeed  surprising. 

Some  of  the  men,  particularly  those  who  have  traveled 
in  the  character  of  Tyrolese  singers,  have  visited  the  four 
quarters  of  the  globe.  Many  who  are  known  to  me  have 
exhibited  their  musical  talents  at  the  courts  of  all  the 
potentates  of  Europe,  and  a  few  even  in  New  York,  Phila- 
delphia, and  San  Francisco.  One  of  the  latter,  Ludwig 
Rainer,^  owner  of  a  charming  hotel  on  the  beautiful 
shores  of  the  Achensee  in  Tyrol,  related  to  me  once  his 
various  adventures  while  traveling  in  the  United  States. 
He  had  been  there  three  times.  The  first  time  he  fell 
into  the  hands  of  scoundrels  who  rid  him  of  every  penny 
he  had  put  by  \  from  the  second  trip  he  returned  not 
much  the  richer ;  and  only  the  third  time  did  he  manage 
to  amass  the  comfortable  fortune  he  is  reputed  to  possess. 
Another  man,  now  a  well-to-do  peasant,  related  to  me 
in  capital  English,  interspersed,  however,  with  copious 
Yankee  slang,  how  he  had  once  been  blown  up  on  a. 
Mississippi  steamboat ;  while  a  third,  owner  of  a  small 
inn  in  the  Pusterthal,  on  my  asking  him  how  he  had  come 
by  his  lacerated  face,  told  me  that  while  out  bear-shooting 
in  one  of  the  Northern  States  of  America,  he  had  been 
suddenly  attacked  by  a  female  bear,  and,  not  having  time 
to  draw  his  knife,  he  had  succeeded  in  throttling  the  ani- 
mal. The  man's  gigantic  build  and  resolute  demeanor 
was  to  me  the  best  proof  of  his  veracity. 

*  He  iind  his  troupe  exhibited  ihemselves,  I  think,  on  two  occasions  before  our 
Queen,  and  several  times  at  the  Paris  and  St.  Petersburg  courts. 


lO       GADDINGS  WJTII  A    PIUMJTIVE   PEOPLE. 

The  traveler  who  wanders  through  the  Defferegger  val- 
ley, a  remote  Alpine  glen  high  up  among  the  mountains, 
may,  in  certain  months  of  the  year,  see  a  very  singular 
sight. 

The  annual  total  emigration  of  the  n.ale  population  of 
this  valley  compels  the  women  to  do  the  work  of  the  men. 
There  is  probably  not  a  single  man  above  eighteen  or 
twenty,  and  below  sixty  or  seventy  years  of  age,  in  that 
valley  for  four  of  the  spring  and  summer  months. 

You  see  women  fell  trees,  drive  their  heavily-laden 
carts,  till  the  ground,  gather  fodder,  chop  wood ;  and  if 
you  enter  one  of  the  village  inns  you  will  see  rows  of 
women,  their  short  pipes  in  their  mouths,  and  elbows  lean- 
ing on  the  table,  drinking  their  pint  of  Tyrolese  wine  after 
their  hard  work. 

A  year  or  two  ago  I  happened  one  Sunday  evening  to 
be  present  when  one  of  the  female  occupants  of  the  bar- 
room in  the  chief  inn  of  St.  Jacob  —  I  being  the  only 
man  present  —  read  to  her  companions  a  letter  she  had 
received  that  day  from  her  husband,  who  at  the  time  of 
writing  was  at  Salt  Lake  City,  among  the  Mormons. 
Though  he  was  only  a  simple  peddler  in  hosiery,  his 
graphic  but  inexpressibly  quaint  description  of  the  city 
and  of  the  customs  of  its  inhabitants  was  highly  amusing. 
Very  singular  and  laughable  it  was  to  watch  the  effects  of 
this  description  on  the  minds  of  the  simple  women,  who 
had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  the  plurality  of  wives. 
Such  a  state  of  things  seemed  to  them  the  height  of  hu- 
man iniquity.  Some  thought  the  Mormons  utter  barba- 
rians, while .  others,  evidently  applying  the  rule  to  their 
own  homes,  swore  they  would  rather  be  killed  than  suffer 
any  female  rivals  in  their  houses. 

The  Defferegger  folk  collect  the  necessary  means  to 
purchase  their  stock  in  trade  by  raising  joint-stock  com- 
panies. The  man  who  contributes  the  largest  sum  of 
money  to  one  of  these  modest  commercial  enterprises  is 
also  entitled  to  the  proportionate  amount  of  the  net  gains. 
They  keep  no  books,  nor  have  they  any  security  in  hand 
for  the  money  invested ;  mutual  confidence,  engendered 


THE  SCHLOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AXD  PEOPLE.     1 1 

by  a  certain  esprit  de  corps,  with  strict  honesty  among 
themseh-es,  is  the  base  upon  which  these  companies  are 
built.  In  their  business  transactions  with  strangers  while 
on  their  tours,  they  exhibit  a  sharpness  quite  unlooked  for, 
and  their  simple  exterior  and  dull  speech  disguise  in 
most  cases  a  very  remarkable  shrewdness. 

Twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  a  very  brisk  and  remunera- 
tive cattle-trade  existed  between  two  T>Tolese  valleys  and 
Russia.  The  traders  in  this  business  used  to  drive  their 
droves  of  twenty  or  thirty  head  themselves  from  Tyrol  to 
Central  and  Eastern  Russia.  When  they  could,  they  took 
advantage  of  a  water-course,  as,  for  instance,  down  the 
Danube  to  the  Black  Sea,  thence  along  the  coast  by  land 
to  Taganrog,  and  thence  either  north  or  north-east.  The 
large  fairs  at  Nishnei  Novgorod  and  Orenburg  were  vis- 
ited by  them,  and  very  frequently  they  penetrated  far  into 
Asiatic  Russia.  Their  journey  thither  often  occupied 
eight  or  nine  months,  so  that  one  venture  entailed  an  ab- 
sence from  home  of  eighteen  months  or  two  years.  The 
prices  which  they  realized  for  the  highly-prized  TyTolese 
cattle  used  for  breeding  purposes  were  naturally  very 
high ;  500  ducats  per  head  (about  250/.)  was  by  no 
means  an  unusual  figure  for  a  beast  which  they  had 
bought  in  their  native  valley  for  some  eight  or  nine 
pounds. 

The  risks  from  accidents,  disease,  or  natural  causes 
were  of  course  correspondingly  high,  and  some  men  in 
one  venture  lost  their  all  by  the  muirain  destroying  their 
drove,  while  others  grew  rich  and  prosperous  in  two  or 
three  expeditions  of  this  kind. 

Now  all  this  is  changed.  The  Russians  are  loth  to  pay 
fancy  prices,  and  prefer  getting  their  breeding  cattle  from 
England  at  a  quarter  of  the  former  cost ;  but  it  neverthe- 
less gives  us  an  idea  of  the  intrepidity  and  commercial 
intelligence  that  prompted  so  highly  venturesome  and 
hazardous  transactions. 

Many  a  time  have  I  been  asked  by  some  middle-aged 
rustic  if  I  have  ever  been  in  Wolgsk,  or  Uralsk,  or  Oren- 
burg, or  Astrachan,  and  on  my  giving  him  a  negative  answer 


12       GADDJNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

I  have  had  to  put  up  with  the  retort,  "Then  you  have  been 
nowhere."  One  or  two  villages  in  the  two  valleys  that 
monopoHzed  the  Russian  cattle-trade  are  entirely  peopled 
by  families  who  have  grown  rich  in  this  trade,  and  who 
are  now  slowly  descending  the  social  ladder,  step  by  step, 
till  they  reach  the  level  of  peasants,  the  stock  from  which 
they  sprang  seventy  or  eighty  years  ago. 

The  Tyrolese  peasant  has  been  often  compared  with  a 
small  freeholder  in  England,  though  of  course  the  latter, 
in  comparison  with  a  Tyrolese  cultivator,  lives  in  the 
style  of  a  prince  or  king.  A  peasant  jjroprietor  who  owns 
three  or  four  acres  of  tolerable  land  maintains  himself  and 
his  family  in  a  simple  but  comfortable  manner ;  he  and 
his  son  being  sufficient  for  the  labors  of  such  a  farm, 
while  his  wife  and  daughters  spin  and  make  the  greater 
part  of  the  family  clothing. 

There  is,  however,  one  very  striking  difference  in  the 
circumstances  of  a  small  cultivator  in  England  and  a 
peasant  in  Tyrol. 

In  the  latter  country  all  the  cultivators  are  of  one  and 
the  same  class,  and  therefore  one  has  the  same  chance  as 
another  ;  while  in  England  there  are  cultivators  on  a  large 
scale  able  to  apply  to  the  soil  capital  and  skill  with  great- 
er advantage  and  economy  than  the  small  proprietor. 

I  have  said  that  the  Tyrolese  exhibit  a  chivalrous  inde- 
pendence of  character  arising  from  an  innate  confidence 
in  their  own  powers.  I  might  qualify  this  observation  by 
remarking  that  a  kindly,  good-natured  courteousness  tow- 
ards the  female  sex,  and  a  bold,  half-defiant,  half-saucy 
bearing  among  themselves,  are,  generally  speaking,  marked 
characteristics  of  the  young  Tyrolese  rustics. 

The  exuberance  of  animal  spirits,  the  self-confidence 
engendered  by  muscular  strength,  and  the  jaunty,  smart 
appearance  of  a  young  fellow  dressed  out  in  his  best, 
give  him  a  sort  of  a  "  cock-of-the-walk  "  air,  increased 
by  the  fact  that  fighting  is  looked  upon  by  a  young  Tyro- 
lese very  much  in  the  same  light  as  by  a  shillelah-swing- 
ing  Irishman  on  a  visit  to  Donnybrook  fair. 

This  defiant  or  saucy  air  generally  sticks  to  a  man  uji 


THE  SCHLOSS,  LAXDSCAPE,  AXD  PJ.OPLE.     1 3 

to  eight  and  twenty  or  thirty.  Later  on  it  is  supplanted 
by  the  natural  results  of  an  excessively  toilsome  life,  in 
the  shape  of  a  somewhat  stern  and  even  morose  expres- 
sion of  face.  An  angular,  spare,  but  well-knit  and  pow- 
erful frame  replaces  youthful  agility  and  rounded  forms. 
Hard-worked  as  women  are  in  the  Tyrol,  their  lot  is  by 
no  means  an  unenviable  one.  They  are  uniformly  treated 
in  a  kind  manner  by  their  husbands,  and  wife-beating  or 
brutal  handling  of  women  is  entirely  unknown  in  the 
country.  Their  relation  to  man  in  their  spinster  state  re- 
minds us  in  many  points  of  the  chivalrous  manners  of 
society  some  five  or  six  hundred  years  ago.  Morality  is 
about  on  the  same  par,  and  the  lass  who  yields  to  the 
solicitations  of  her  lover  who  has  proved  his  right  in  a 
fierce  fight  with  his  rival  or  rivals,  stands  very  much  in 
the  position  of  the  noble  lady  who,  five  centuries  ago,  re- 
warded victory  in  combat  and  tournament  with  her  love. 
The  very  poetry  of  the  country  is  yet  tinted  with  the  sen- 
timents of  the  '•'  Minnesanger."  What  other  people  in 
Europe  treat  the  whole  subject  of  love  in  so  quaint  and 
charming  a  manner? 

Nothing  proves  the  vitality  of  this  people  more  signally 
than  the  survival  of  the  spirit  of  bygone  days.  Given  to 
bouts  of  hard  drinking,  rough  towards  men,  kindly  in  his 
manner  to  women,  bold  and  warlike  in  his  youth,  cool 
and  self-possessed  in  his  age,  the  Tyrolese  peasant,  un- 
conlaminated  by  civilization,  may  be  said  to  represent  a 
strikingly  true  picture  of  a  knight  of  the  days  of  chivalry. 

Poor  and  primitive  as  the  Tyrolese  are,  and  hard-work- 
ing as  they  have  to  be,  their  lot  is  yet  far  preferable  to 
that  of  many  inhabitants  of  rural  districts  in  Italy,  France, 
England,  and  North  Germany.  The  man,  enjoying  a  life 
of  domestic  happiness,  ignorant  alike  of  real  want  and 
superfluity,  the  woman,  kindly  treated  by  her  husband, 
surrounded  by  healthy  curly-headed  children,  can  bear 
comparison  with  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  lower  classes 
throughout  Europe. 

Of  the  defiant  bearing  that  characterizes  the  young 
folk,  I   may  give  one  or  two  examples.     A  custom  very 


14       GADDIA'GS  WITH  A   PKIMIT/J-E  PEOPLE. 

dear  to  a  genuine  Tyrolese  is  to  adorn  his  Sunday  and 
fete-day  hat  with  the  tail-feathers  of  the  blackcocl<.  {Te- 
trao  tetrix)  and  the  "  Gamsbart,"  the  long  dark  brown 
hair  growing  along  that  animal's  back  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year.  The  tail-feathers  of  the  blackcock  are 
curved  at  the  extremity ;  but  if  they  are  turned  round  so 
that  the  curve  or  "  hook  "  comes  to  be  placed  in  a  con- 
trary direction  to  that  usually  Avorn,  a  man  is  at  once 
metamorphosed  from  a  peaceful  native  into  a  quarrel- 
seeking  "  Robbler." 

The  manner  in  which  a  fight  is  brought  about  by  any 
young  fellow  stung  by  the  Robbler's  defiant  challenge  is 
extremely  simple.  Stepping  up  to  him  he  asks,  "  Was 
kost  die  Feder?"  ("How  much  for  the  feather?")  the 
answer  "Fiinf  Finger  und  ein  Griff"  ("  Five  fingers  and  a 
grip  "  )  being  followed,  before  one  has  time  to  look  round, 
by  a  hasty  rush  and  a  fierce  struggle,  ending  frequently 
in  bloodshed.  Some  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago,  this  prac- 
tice prevailed  throughout  the  greater  part  of  North  Tyrol : 
now,  thanks  to  railways  and  tourists,  it  is  confined  to  two 
or  three  remote  vales,  v/here  even  at  the  present  moment, 
and  I  am  speaking  by  experience,  it  is  not  safe  for  a 
native  of  some  other  valley  to  sport  a  "  turned  "  feather 
of  the  blackcock  if  he  does  not  wish  to  invite  a  challenge. 

I  need  hardly  mention  that  the  naturally  quick  eye  of 
the  Tyi^olese  detects  at  the  first  glance  if  a  stranger,  wear- 
ing a  turned  blackcock  feather,  is  a  Tyrolese  or  not.  In 
the  latter  case  the  stranger  can  rest  assured  that  were  his 
hat  garnished  with  twenty  turned  feathers  no  harm  or  insult 
of  any  kind  would  come  to  him.  I  have  often  been  amused 
in  watching  the  broad  grin  settling  on  the  face,  and  mirth 
lighting  up  the  eyes  of  a  native,  as  he  sees  a  specimen  of 
that  most  terrible  species  of  Continental  tourists  —  some 
spindle-shanked  "Berliner,"  his  "pincenez"  on  his  nose, 
or  a  pale-faced,  shrunken  Saxon  —  strutting  about  with 
blackcock  feathers  on  their  hats,  and  displaying  the  inva- 
riable Gamsbart  —  both,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  shams 
thrice  overpaid  —  representing  animals  which  these  would- 
be  sportsmen  have  never  seen  out  of  a  zoological  garden, 
much  less  shot. 


THE  SCHLOSS,  LAXDSCAPE,   AND  PEOPLE.     15 

The  Zillerthal,  in  my  opinion,  and  in  that  of  every 
traveler  who  has  had  occasion  to  see  some  of  the  really 
beautiful  scenery  to  be  found  in  other  parts  of  Tyrol, 
scarcely  deserves  its  fame  for  natural  beauty,  yet  fifteen 
years  ago  —  before  it  had  been  spoilt  by  the  wide-spread 
repute  of  its  landscaj^e  and  quaint  inhabitants,  it  exhibited 
a  curious  medley  of  ancient  and  half-civilized  customs. 
Among  these  institutions  of  the  past  was  the  "  Robbler," 
or  "  Haggler." 

The  fact  that  a  village  could  boast  of  a  "Robbler"  of 
repute  as  its  champion  at  fetes  or  weddings  was  a  matter 
of  importance.  If  two  such  "  Robblers,"  or  even  two 
young  fellows  who  claimed  this  honorary  title,  happened 
to  meet,  or  if  one  should  hear  his  rival's  loud  jodler, 
defiant  and  challenging  to  its  last  note,  echo  from  moun- 
tain to  mountain,  he  would  hasten,  guided  by  the  sound 
of  the  repeated  jodler  war-cries,  to  the  spot  where  per- 
haps his  foe  was  at  work,  and  a  fierce  struggle  for  the 
supremacy  in  that  part  of  the  country  would  ensue.  On 
these  occasions  severe  injuries  were  the  rule.  A  year  or 
two  ago  an  old  wrestler,  a  famous  Robbler  in  his  youth,  died 
in  his  native  village  in  the  Zillerthal.  The  numerous  dis- 
figuring wounds  on  his  body  told  the  tale  of  many  a  fierce 
combat  in  his  youth.  His  left  eye,  the  better  part  of  his 
nose,  the  tip  of  his  ear,  and  two  fingers  were  "  missing ;  " 
he  had  also  had  an  arm  and  a  leg  broken. 

All  this  has  now  passed  away.  Such  meetings,  if  they 
do  occur,  are  decided  by  more  legitimate  means  ;  and 
certain  laws  and  rules,  strictly  enforced  by  those  present, 
confine  the  combat  to  the  limits  of  a  mere  wrestling  match. 
The  use  of  the  knife,  at  present  even  of  frequent  occur- 
rence in  the  Highlands  of  Bavaria,  was  always  discounte- 
nanced by  the  Tyrolese.  Although  the  opinion  may  not 
be  expressed  in  so  many  words,  it  is  considered  a  cowardly 
act  by  the  natives,  and  a  man  once  caught  while  \\T:estling 
in  the  act  of  lowering  his  hand  to  the  trouser-pocket  from 
which  the  handle  of  the  knife  protrudes,  is  shunned  thence- 
forth, and  any  quarrel  with  him  broken  off. 

Sunday  or  fete-day  fights,  originating  in  the  Wirths- 


1 6       GADDJNGS  IVITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

hauser,  or  village  inns,  now  and  then  occur  still.  The  usual 
cause  of  these  fights  is,  of  course,  some  buxom  Helen, 
somewhat  too  free  and  indiscriminate  in  the  display  of  her 
favors  to  her  several  admirers.  It  is  obvious  that  the 
responsibilities  of  "  mine  host "  on  Sunday  and  fete-day 
evenings,  when  wine  and  schnapps  have  done  their  work, 
are  vastly  increased. 

A  rural  "  wirth  "  in  Tyrol  is  a  being  it  would  require  a 
whole  book  to  depict  with  accuracy.  A  farmer  himsolf, 
and  owner  perhaps  of  four  or  five  horses,  he  is  not  only 
a  man  of  importance  in  the  village,  but  generally  also  of 
comparative  wealth,  sure  to  be,  or  to  have  been  once,  at 
the  head  of  the  '' Vorstehung,"  or  municipality.  He  is 
^'  the  "  man  who  dares  to  avow  any  anti-orthodox  opinion 
in  the  face  of  an  enraged  priest ;  he  heads  the  Hberal 
party,  if  there  be  any,  in  his  village  ;  and  his  word  very 
frequently  carries  the  day  in  any  question  of  village  fac- 
tion quarrel.  Large,  portly  men  generally,  they  have  to 
be  firm  and  resolute  ;  "  For,"  as  a  giant  "  wirth  "  once  re- 
marked to  me,  "  a  wirth  who  cannot  expel  any  one  of  his 
quarrelsome  or  drunken  guests  can  never  hope  to  keep 
order  in  his  house."  Though  it  would  be  going  too  far 
to  say  that  this  is  the  rule,  the  "wirth's"  position  is 
always  one  requiring  men  of  firm  and  determined  char- 
acter, who  know,  either  by  their  bodily  strength  or  by  their 
mental  superiority,  how  to  make  themselves  respected  and 
obeyed. 

Nothing  illustrates  the  stuff  these  men  are  made  of  bet- 
ter than  the  important  part  they  played  in  the  memorable 
war  with  the  French.  Out  of  nine  renowned  leaders  of 
the  Tyrolese  peasant  troops,  no  less  than  seven  were 
"wirthe;"  among  them  the  Wallace  of  Tyrol,  Andreas 
Hofer,  the  "  Sandwirth,"  as  the  populace  term  him. 

Rare  as  fights  are  now,  the  customs  which  rule  these 
encounters  nevertheless  vary  a  good  deal  according  to 
the  locahty.  In  some  valleys  the  combatants  content 
themselves  with  throwing  each  other ;  in  others,  again, 
severe  injuries  are  the  rule.  I  once  happened  to  be 
present  in  the  Upper  Zillerthal  at  a  fight  between  four 


THE  SC/ILOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND  PEOPLE.     I? 

men.  The  ferocity  of  the  combatants  and  the  savage 
way  in  which  they  attacked  each  other  rendered  it  amaz- 
ing that  no  serious  injuries  were  inflicted.  An  eye 
scooped  out  and  two  bleeding  heads  were  about  the  only 
visible  results.  I  was  not  a  little  struck  with  the  cool 
and  off-hand  manner  in  which  the  victim  of  the  first- 
named  injury  replaced  his  eye  into  the  socket,  to  which 
it  had  remained  attached  by  some  fibers.  A  strip  of 
cloth  was  bound  over  it,  and  the  man  rejoined  his  com- 
panions sitting  round  the  table,  all  being  the  best  friends 
in  the  world  now  that  the  quarrel  was  once  settled.  I 
may  add  that  loss  of  the  eyesight  is  by  no  means  the 
inevitable  result  of  a  "  scooped-out "  eye,  as  long  as  it 
remains  attached  to  the  socket,  and  the  nerves  are  not 
injured.  I  know  a  man  whose  right  eye  has  been  twice 
"  scooped,"  and  yet  he  sees  perfectly  well  with  it. 

To  give  an  idea  of  the  hardships  which  fall  to  the  lot 
of  a  Tyrolese  peasant,  I  will  endeavor  to  recount  the  odd 
features  of  some  of  the  remote  valleys  noticed  by  me  in 
the  course  of  my  wanderings. 

In  the  Wild-Schbnau  (North  Tyrol)  not  a  few  of  the 
houses  are  built  on  such  steep  slopes  that  a  heavy  chain 
has  to  be  laid  round  the  houses  and  fastened  to  some  firm 
object,  a  large  tree,  or  boulder  of  rock,  higher  up.  In 
many  of  the  side  valleys  of  the  "  Pusterthal  "  manure  and 
earth,  the  latter  to  replace  the  poor  soil  exhausted  in  one 
or  two  years,  have  to  be  carried  up  the  precipitous  slopes 
in  large  baskets,  or  "  kraksen,"  on  the  backs  of  men.  In 
one  village  off  the  Pusterthal,  and  in  two  others  off  the 
Oberinntlial,  many  of  the  villagers  come  to  church  with 
crampons^  on  their  feet,  the  terribly  steep  slopes  on 
which  their  huts  are  built,  somewhat  like  a  swallow's  nest 
on  a  wall,  requiring  this  precautionary  measure  ;  and  they 
are  so  accustomed  to  wear  them  constantly  on  their  feet 
during  the  week  that  on  the  Sunday  they  even  come  to 
church  with  them. 

1  A  sort  of  iron  sole,  supplied  with  six  or  eight  spikes  an  inch  or  an  incli  anrl 
a  half  in  length.  The  irons  arc  securely  strapped  to  the  shoe  by  means  of  leather 
or  cord  fastenings.     They  arc  of  great  help  on  precipitous  slopes. 


1 8       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

In  Moos,  a  village  not  very  far  from  the  Brenner,  having 
a  population  of  800  inhabitants,  more  than  300  men  and 
women  have  been  killed  since  1758  by  falls  from  the  in- 
credibly steep  slopes  upon  which  the  pasturages  of  this 
village  are  situated.  So  steep  are  they,  in  fact,  that  only 
goats,  and  even  they  not  everywhere,  can  be  trusted  to 
graze  on  them ;  and  the  hay  for  the  larger  cattle  has  to 
be  cut  and  gathered  by  the  hand  of  man. 

The  "Wildheuer"  is  very  numerously  represented  in 
the  Tyrol.  Their  occupation  is  very  similar  to  the  one 
just  described,  with  the  difference  that  a  "  wildheuer  " 
climbs  the  highest  eminences,  up  to  eight  and  nine  thou- 
sand feet,  in  search  for  the  long  Alpine  grass  growing  on 
steep  slopes.  Armed  with  his  crampons,  he  sets  out  on 
his  dangerous  task.  If  the  precipices  are  too  high  to 
admit  his  precipitating  the  bundles  of  hay,  closely  packed 
in  a  sort  of  net,  down  the  declivity,  he  has  no  other 
means  of  transporting  it  but  to  take  the  heavy  burden, 
exceeding  often  a  hundredweight,  on  his  shoulder,  and 
return  by  the  same  perilous  path  by  which  he  ascended. 
So  common  in  Tyrol  are  valleys  having  amazingly  pre- 
cipitous slopes,  with  not  a  patch  of  level  ground  in  their 
whole  stretch,  that  we  frequently  meet  with  proverbs 
quaintly  illustrating  the  dangerous  nature  of  a  glen. 
Thus  of  one  (Hochgallmig)  the  saying  runs  :  "  Here  the 
hens  have  to  walk  on  crampons,  and  the  cocks  use 
Alpine  poles."  Of  another  :  "  If  the  swallows  can't  find 
any  walls  of  suitable  height  in  the  rest  of  Tyrol,  they 
come  to  Taufers  "  (Oberinnthal)  "to  build  their  nests  on 
the  slopes  of  the  valley." 

In  See,  a  tiny  village  in  one  of  the  remote  glens  off  the 
latter  valley,  the  bodies  of  persons  who  had  died  in  win- 
ter were  formerly  kept  in  the  lofts  of  the  houses  till  the 
snow  vanished  from  the  path  traversing  a  mountain  over 
8,000  feet  high,  which  connected  See  with  the  village  to 
whose  parish  it  belonged.  See,  however,  with  its  popu- 
lation of  500  souls,  has  been  recently  added  to  a  parish 
not  requiring  ten  or  twelve  hours  to  be  reached. 

In  another  valley  the  letter-carrier,  who  visits  it  once  a 


THE  sen  LOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND  PEOPLE .     19 

fortnight  (in  summer) ,  is  obliged  to  wear  crampons  on 
liis  feet  for  two  clays,  and  each  day  for  more  than  twelve 
hours. 

In  many  villages  the  staple  article  of  production  is  but- 
ter, which  is  carried  over  mountain  paths  to  the  next  large 
village  or  town. 

Thus  in  Hinter-Dux  about  half  of  the  male  popula- 
tion of  that  valley  are  occupied  during  the  summer 
months  in  transporting  this  commodity  to  Innsbruck. 
One  of  these  men  will  carry  120  to  130  pounds,  or  about 
150  English  pounds,  for  eleven  or  twelve  hours  constantly 
on  his  back,  and  traverse  two  very  steep  ridges  of  moun- 
tains over  which  tlie  path  to  Innsbruck,  their  market  for 
butter,  leads. 

Considering  the  poor  pay  received  by  these  carriers, 
and  the  exceptional  fatigue  attendant  upon  the  transport 
of  such  a  weight,  it  is  astonishing  that  emigi-ation  is  but 
rarely  resorted  to  by  natives  of  the  Hinter-Dux  and  other 
\-alleys  where  similar  precarious  means  of  gaining  a  liveli- 
hood are  the  rule. 

Strangers,  oddly  enough,  very  often  find  the  unsophis- 
ticated population  of  the  remoter  parts  of  the  country  the 
most  difficult  to  deal  with.  This  is  caused  to  a  great 
extent  by  tlie  suspicious  shyness  with  which  these  rustics 
glance  at  the  strangely-dressed  invader.  Nothing  aids 
one's  efforts  to  penetrate  the  outer  coat  of  reserve,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  gain  a  true  insight  into  the  lives  and 
characters  of  this  people,  so  much  as  an  assimilation  to 
their  habits,  customs,  language,  and  dress.  But  very  nat- 
urally too,  as  all  travelers  do  not  care  to  acquire  the 
necessary  broad  German,  or  to  walk  about  in  short  "  leath- 
ers "  with  an  old  hat  on  one's  head,  I  must  content  my- 
self \vith  asking  the  reader  to  make  his  own  inferences 
from  the  following  sketches  of  Tyrolese  life. 

I  may  as  well  mention  here  that  my  adoption  of  the 
native  dress  and  language  has  very  frecjuently  been  the 
source  of  great  amusement  to  me.  A  worn  shooting- 
jacket  on  the  back,  with  short  time-stained  "  leathers  " 
displaying  a  bronzed  knee,  is  an  apparel  tliat  not  only 


20       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPIE. 

opens  the  hearts  of  the  natives,  but  also  the  minds  of 
unsuspicious  tourists. 

Many  of  my  readers  no  doubt  will  know  the  exquisite 
view  from  the  "  Matreier  Thorl,"  —  a  pass  intervening 
between  the  two  villages  of  Matrei  and  Kals  in  the  Tj-toI. 
On  a  fine  August  day,  two  or  three  years  ago,  I  was  lying 
at  full  length  on  the  short  grass,  basking  in  the  warm 
afternoon  sun,  on  the  height  of  this  pass.  A  three-days' 
unsuccessful  chamois-stalking  expedition  high  up  among 
the  opposite  range  of  snowy  peaks  had  brought  me  on 
my  return  to  civilized  quarters  across  this  height.  Feel- 
ing rather  tired,  I  determined  to  while  av/ay  a  few  hours 
till  approaching  dusk  would  render  advisable  a  speedy 
descent  to  Kals  —  for  that  day  my  goal.  I  had  not  been 
more  than  half  an  hour  thus  enjoying  the  grand  view  and 
the  absolute  and  impressive  tranquillity  reigning  around 
me,  when  I  perceived  a  group  of  tourists  slowly  climbing 
the  narrow  path  leading  to  the  celebrated  point  of  view, 
on  the  height  of  the  "  Joch,"  or  pass. 

Retreating  to  a  patch  of  rhododendrons  a  few  yards  off, 
in  order  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  pufling  and  "winded  " 
tourists,  I  immediately  learned  on  their  arrival,  by  the 
"  charming  "s,  and  "  delightful "  s,  and  "  beautiful "  s,  that 
fell  from  the  lips  of  the  three  ladies  that  made  up  the 
female  contingent  of  the  group,  that  the  guess  which  I 
had  made  on  first  seeing  the  group,  when  yet  half  a  mile 
distant,  was  right. 

An  hour  or  so  vv^as  spent  by  the  party  in  admiring  the 
view,  sketching  the  valley  at  their  feet,  and  deriving  ani- 
mal comfort  from  sundry  parcels  and  bottles  produced 
from  the  knapsacks  of  the  two  men,  one  evidently  the 
father,  the  other  the  son  and  apparently  a  university 
man.  The  fact  that  they  were  unprovided  with  guides  or 
porters  was  explained  in  the  course  of  their  conversation 
by  the  casual  remark  of  one  of  the  ladies  that  they  hoped 
their  luggage  had  safely  reached  Kals,  the  village  they 
were  intending  to  gain  that  evening. 

Not  wishing  to  play  the  ca^'esdropper  any  longer,  I  had 
swung  my  "  Rucksack  "  on   to   my  shoulders,  and  was 


THE  sen  LOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND   PEOPLE.     21 

just  taking  up  my  rifle  in  order  to  turn  my  steps  Kals- 
ward,  when  a  hasty  exclamation  of  one  of  the  younger 
ladies,  to  the  purport  that  she  desired  to  sketch  me  as 
representing  a  typical  Tyrolese  chamois-hunter,  made  me 
hasten  away.  The  brother,  evidently  the  only  one  of  the 
party  acquainted  with  German,  ran  after  me,  intending  to 
secure  me  as  a  model  for  his  sister.  The  excuse  —  in 
German,  of  course  —  that  I  was  pressed  for  time,  and 
had  a  walk  of  two  or  three  hours  before  me,  got  rid  of 
this  proposal,  only,  however,  to  get  me  into  a  v/orse 
scrape.  Asking  me  if  I  Avas  going  to  Kals,  he  seemed 
quite  astonished  to  hear  that  it  was  nearly  three  hours  off, 
whereupon  he  informed  his  relatives  of  the  unwelcome 
piece  of  information  gleaned  from  "this  fellow,"  point- 
ing to  me.  Hardly  able  to  suppress  my  laughter,  but 
desiring  to  retain  my  incognito,  I  was  just  going  to  pass 
on,  when  my  interrogator  asked  me  in  his  execrable  Ger- 
man if  I  would  mind  showing  them  the  way  down.  My 
hint  that  the  path  could  scarcely  be  missed  was  met  by 
the  further  request  of  the  ladies  that  I  would  carry  their 
shawls,  v/hich  had  thus  far  been  fastened  to  their  waists 
by  straps.  Escape  seemed  impossible,  and,  not  wishing 
to  be  disobhging  or  uncivil,  I  assented.  Ten  minutes 
later  I  was  stalking  in  front  of  the  file,  now  rid  of  their 
shawls  and  knapsacks.  The  latter  had  been  introduced 
into  my  sjiacious  "  Rucksack  "  by  the  young  man,  who 
imagined  that  I  had  not  observed  the  addition  of  weight. 
"  These  fellows  don't  feel  fifteen  or  twenty  pounds  more 
or  less  on  their  backs,"  was  the  off-hand  speech  with 
which  he  quieted  the  remonstrance  of  one  of  his  sisters. 
Close  behind  me  tripped  the  two  girls,  the  parents  in 
the  center,  and  the  son  closing  the  file.  The  confidential 
conversation  of  the  two  young  ladies,  both  bright  and 
handsome  specimens  of  that  most  pleasing  of  England's 
characteristics,  —  her  fair  sex,  —  to  which  I  had  to  listen 
for  two  long  hours,  must  of  course  remain  untold  in  these 
pages  :  let  it  suffice  that  the  concoction  of  a  strategical 
device  how  to  get  me  into  their  sketch-books,  inter- 
mingled with  personal  remarks,  not  uniformly  flattering, 


2  2       GAD  DINGS  Wiril  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

on  my  humble  self  s  appearance,  formed  the  chief  subject 
of  their  constant  chatter,  making  me  rejoice  that  the  even 
path  and  their  sure-footedness  rendered  the  extension  of 
a  helping  hand  to  the  two  fair  conspirators  unnecessary. 
Just  before  dark  we  reached  the  straggling  village  of  Kals, 
and  the  "  Gasthaus,"  a  modest  but  scrupulously  clean  little 
inn. 

Dreading  to  enter  the  house  in  the  character  of  a  por- 
ter, as  I  was  well  known  to  the  host  and  the  guides,  who 
v/ere  sure  to  be  lingering  about  the  entrance,  I  came  to  a 
sudden  halt  a  few  yards  from  the  inn.  Unfastening  the 
knapsacks  and  bundle  of  shawls  from  my  "  Rucksack," 
with  the  intention  of  handing  them  to  the  two  gentlemen 
of  the  party,  I  meant  to  make  off  to  another  little  inn, 
where  I  hoped  to  be  safe  from  any  unwelcome  denoiiment. 

An  ominous  whispering,  and  the  accompanying  jingle 
of  loose  money,  made  me  recollect  that  my  "porter" 
character  entitled  me  to  a  fee.  "  Here,  my  good  fellow, 
are  two  florins  for  your  pains,"  were  the  last  words  I 
heard,  for  with  a  sudden  turn  I  was  off,  leaving  the 
"  paterfamilias "  rooted  to  the  ground  with  outstretched 
liand.  Fate,  however,  meant  differently,  for  with  a  slap 
on  my  shoulder,  and  "Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Grohman, 
where  on  earth  are  you  off  to  in  such  a  hurry?"  I  was 
brought  to  a  dead  stop,  not  five  yards  from  my  bewildered 
"  employers." 

A  London  barrister,  whom  I  had  accidentally  met  some 
weeks  before  while  on  a  mountaineering  tour  in  the  Dolo- 
mites, was  thus  destined  to  tear  off  my  porter  disguise, 
and,  what  was  far  more  disagreeable,  made  me  the  object 
of  profound  excuses  on  the  part  of  my  late  "masters." 
Of  the  blushes  of  the  two  charming  conspirators  on  see- 
ing the  Tyrolese  chamois-hunter  transformed  into  a  fel- 
low-countryman, whom  they  had  unwittingly  made  their 
confidant  on  more  than  one  point,  it  is  unnecessary  to 
speak ;  nor  of  the  upshot  of  the  Vv'hole  mystification,  a 
charming  supper  in  the  little  parlor  of  the  inn,  and  a  far 
more  charming  tour  in  their  company  back  to  Lienz,  and 
into   the   heart  of  the    Dolomites,  followed,  five  or  six 


THE  SCHLOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND  PEOPLE.     23 

months  later,  by  several  very  merry  dinners  in  a  certain 
house  not  a  hundred  miles  from  Hyde  Park  Corner. 

On  another  occasion  —  for  this  incident  recalls  to  my 
mind  a  host  of  ludicrous  scenes  —  while  sitting  at  a 
crowded  dinner-table  in  Schluderbach,  near  Ampezzo, 
and  chatting  with  a  stout  old  monk,  I  had  to  lend  an 
unwilling  ear  to  some  very  severe  criticisms  on  the  part 
of  two  somewhat  emancipated  English  ladies  of  a  certain 
age,  on  the  beastly  custom  of  my  stout  neighbor,  of  in- 
dulging in  very  frequent  doses  of  snuff;  and  then,  when 
that  subject  was  exhausted,  to  no  less  stinging  remarks 
on  my  own  appearance.  A  flannel  shirt  and  a  shooting- 
jacket  of  Tyrolese  cut  are  perhaps  not  the  guise  in  which 
I  should  care  to  appear  at  a  Swiss  table  dlibtc ;  but  for 
the  primitive  Tyrolese  hostelries,  those  two  ladies  exer- 
cised, I  am  inclined  to  think,  somewhat  too  harsh  a 
judgment. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  of  my  readers  who  have  never 
had  occasion  to  cross  the  threshold  of  an  Alp-hut  or 
chalet,  I  may  add  the  following  short  sketch  of  these  ele- 
vated summer  abodes  of  vast  numbers  of  Tyrolese.  In 
May,  when  the  last  streaks  of  snow  have  vanished  from 
the  mountains  of  niedium  height,  the  peasants,  now  rid 
of  their  autumnal  stock  of  fodder,  lead  their  herds  of 
cattle  up  to  the  juicy  pasturages  on  the  mountain  slopes 
that  encircle  their  native  valleys.  These  "Alps"  or  pas- 
turages are  resorted  to  at  different  seasons,  according  to 
their  heights,  and  many  of  them,  at  an  elevation  of  6,000 
and  7,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  afford  the 
necessary  food  for  the  cattle  only  for  a  short  period. 

Each  pasturage  is  provided  with  .a  hut,  the  chalet  or 
Alp-hut,  and  a  rich  peasant  will  tell  you  that  he  has  three 
and  four  of  these  "  Alps,"  situated  one  above  the  other  at 
an  interval  of  an  hour  or  more  between  each.  Thus 
when  the  grass  on  the  lowest,  which  is  first  resorted  to, 
grows  scarce,  the  herd  and  his  cattle  migrate  to  the  one 
higher  up,  and  in  this  way  the  highest  Alp-hut  is  reached 
in  the  warmest  season  of  the  year,  about  the  month  of 
July. 


24       GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Poorer  peasants  have  two  Alps  ;  and  if  the  peasant  has 
but  a  few  head  of  cattle  to  call  his  own  he  will  be  even 
content  with  one,  though  this  may  be  said  to  be  the 
exception  in  all  but  the  very  poorest  valleys. 

The  Alp-huts  are  simple  log-huts  divided  into  two 
unequal  divisions.  The  larger  part  at  the  rear  provides 
the  necessary  shelter  for  young  cattle  in  wet  or  cold 
weather,  while  the  smaller  front  portion  is  the  kitchen, 
parlor,  and  bedroom  of  the  man  or  woman  to  whose 
guardianship  the  cattle  are  intrusted.  On  mountains 
abounding  with  grassy  slopes  we  find  clusters  of  these 
huts  together,  often  to  the  number  of  twenty  or  thirty. 

The  interior  of  these  huts  is  extremely  primitive.  The 
fireplace  occupies  one  of  the  corners,  and  is  generally  a 
sort  of  pit  or  trench,  dug  around  by  way  of  a  seat,  sur- 
mounted by  a  crane,  from  which  is  suspended  the  huge 
black  caldron  or  kettle,  the  most  necessary  utensil  for  the 
manufacture  of  cheese. 

In  large  and  prosperous  Alp-huts  these  caldrons  are 
of  amazing  size  ;  and  I  well  remember  that  in  my  younger 
days  it  v/as  my  habit  at  night,  while  sojourning  in  these 
chalets,  to  seek  a  warm  though  somewhat  confined  rest- 
ing-place in  the  inside  of  one  of  these  giant  kettles. 
Once,  in  fact,  I  was  nigh  drowned  by  the  "  Senner,"  or 
cowherd,  pouring  a  huge  pailful  of  water  into  the  caldron, 
ignorant  as  he  was  of  its  contents. 

In  Styria,  Upper  Austria,  Salzburg,  and  certain  valleys 
in  Tyrol,  girls  —  strong,  healthy-looking  lasses  —  are  the 
occupants  of  these  solitary  huts,  while  in  other  parts  of 
Tyrol  and  in  Switzerland  a  man  guards  the  cattle  intrusted 
to  him.  If  the  peasant  to  whom  the  Alp  belongs  is 
unable  to  afford  to  keep  such  a  "  Senner  "  or  "  Sennerin," 
his  grown-up  son  or  daughter,  as  the  case  may  be,  is  sent 
up  in  that  character. 

These  people  have  but  httle  opportunity  of  indulging 
in  that  Arcadian  leisure  which  romance  assigns  to  ten- 
ants of  solitary  Alp-huts.  The  manufacture  of  cheese, 
the  churning  of  butter,  the  milking  of  the  cows  twice  a 
day,  the  cleaning  and  arrangement  of  the  dairy-utensils, 


THE  SCI  I  LOSS,  LAXDSCAFE,  AND  PEOPLE.     25 

and  the  responsibility  of  keeping  their  flock  from  straying 
into  dangerous  places,  and  attending  on  sick  cattle,  give 
them  constant  and  excessively  arduous  occupation. 

A  bed  of  straw  and  a  blanket  on  a  sort  of  projecting 
balcony  in  the  inside  of  the  hut  is  their  resting-place  ;  and 
the  stranger  or  nati\-e  who  seeks  a  night's  shelter  has  to 
content  himself  with  the  fragrant  hay  on  the  loft  right 
over  the  second  partition  where  the  cattle  seek  a  welcome 
shelter  from  the  inclemencies  of  a  rough  Alpine  climate. 

The  dairy  or  milk-cellar  is  either  underground  or  in  a 
small  chamber  off  the  front  division.  As  the  type  of 
chalet  in  which  the  Senner  is  the  presiding  master  has 
been  often  described  in  books  on  Swiss  travel,  I  shall 
confine  myself  to  the  more  preferable  class  governed  by 
female  hands. 

Greater  cleanliness  in  dairy  matters,  the  generally 
scrupulously  clean  interior  of  the  hut  itself,  and  the  far 
more  pleasing  and  attractive  welcome  accorded  to  the 
stranger,  are  some  of  the  manifold  merits  of  the  latter 
custom.  Little  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  the  Sen- 
ner was  an  unknown  being ;  every  Alp-hut  in  the  Tyrol 
was  presided  over  by  Sennerinnen.  llie  Archbishop  of 
Salzburg,  to  whose  diocese  many  of  the  Tyrolese  valleys 
appertained,  moved  by  sundry  complaints  respecting  the 
somewhat  profligate  life  led  "  on  high,"  gave  strict  in- 
juncdons  that  henceforth  no  "  Sennerin "  should  be 
allowed.  The  Bishops  of  Trent  and  Brixen  followed  suit, 
though  not  in  so  rigorous  a  manner.  Since  that  time, 
however,  and  chiefly  since  the  wars  in  the  first  years  of 
this  century,  the  buxom,  healthy-looking  Alp-giri  has  re- 
occupied  her  former  position  in  not  a  few  Tyrolese  valleys. 

Saturday  evening  is  the  grand  "reception"  night  of 
these  gay  and  merry  lasses.  Vv'ork  over  in  the  distant 
valley,  each  young  fellow  who  is  lucky  enough  to  be  able 
to  sing :  "  A  rifle  on  my  back,  a  buck  chamois  in  my 
bag,  and  a  black-eyed,  merry  Alp-girl  in  my  heart,"  takes 
his  rifle,  his  scant  stock  of  provisions,  and  is  off  to  the 
Alp-hut  high  up  on  the  mountains,  where  he  knows  his 
lass  is  awaiting  him.     l-'ar  off,  while  the  low  chalet  is  yet 


26       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

but  a  speck,  a  piercing,  eclioing  "joddler"  of  the  lover 
will  bring  his  lass  to  the  door,  and  a  minute  later  a  sharp 
silvery  answer  will  float  down  to  the  mountaineer,  whose 
feet  cover  the  intervening  distance  with  a  speed  that  love 
only  can  accomplish. 

Sunday  is  devoted  to  stalking  or  poaching,  and  on 
Monday  morning,  long  before  daybreak  often,  the  swain 
is  off  in  order  to  regain  the  site  of  his  daily  labor  by  five 
o'clock,  the  hour  for  beginning  work. 

Playing  the  Don  Juan  is  not  unfrequently  dangerous 
work  for  a  stranger  or  a  native  of  another  valley,  and  I 
have  come  across  several  instances  where  a  speedy  retri- 
bution overtook  the  pirate  in  strange  waters. 

In  October  and  in  cold  autumns,  when  snow  falls  in 
September,  often  even  sooner,  the  Alp-girl,  aided  by  a 
peasant  or  a  boy,  returns  with  her  twenty  or  thirty  head 
of  cattle  to  the  home  valley.  Tinkling  bells,  hung  round 
each  cow's  neck  by  broad  leather  belts,  wreaths  of  flowers, 
loud  rejoicings,  mark  this  event ;  and  lucky  is  the  fair  lass 
who  has  made  her  allotted  quantity  of  cheese,  churned 
the  requisite  hundredweights  of  butter,  and  brought  back 
her  flock  without  accident  or  mishap  to  any  of  them. 

In  a  closing  remark  to  this  introductory  chapter,  I  wish 
to  draw  the  reader's  attention  to  another  peculiarity  of 
the  Tyrolese.  It  is  the  creative  genius  that  has  distin- 
guished this  people  for  centuries.  Painters,  carvers,  poets, 
musicians  of  repute,  form  the  body  of  the  Tyrolese  con- 
tingent of  celebrated  or  well-known  names. 

Musical  talent  is,  without  comparison,  the  gift  of  nature 
most  widely  diffused  in  Tyrol ;  and  to  a  stranger,  particu- 
larly an  Englishman,  it  is  amazing  to  find  a  finely  devel- 
oped ear  and  a  capital  voice  in  the  commonest  country 
lout,  who  scarcely  knows  his  ABC,  and  to  whom  Bis- 
marck is  an  unknown  being.  To  be  able  to  join  with  a 
second  or  third  voice  in  a  song  which  they  have  not 
heard  before,  is  a  very  common  accomplishment.  Often 
have  I  been  amus(!d  by  watching  the  expressive  face  of 
some  country  lass  liUening  for  the  first  time  in  her  hfe  to 
the  full  tones  of  a  piano. 


THE  SCI/LOSS,  LANDSCAPE,  AND  PEOPLE.     27 

To  give  an  instance  of  this  fine  sense  of  music  :  a  lady 
of  my  acquaintance  was  one  afternoon  playing  and  sing- 
ing a  Viennese  air.  The  windows  of  the  room  were 
open,  and  two  country  lasses  passing  along  the  road 
stopped  and  listened  for  a  little  time.  Presently,  when 
at  my  request  my  friend  repeated  the  song,  the  two  girls 
fell  in,  one  with  the  second  and  the  other  with  the  third 
voice.  Being  a  stranger  to  Tyrol,  my  friend  would  not 
believe  that  the  girls  were  common  peasant  lasses,  unac- 
quainted with  the  piece  of  music  which  she  played ;  and 
so,  in  order  to  convince  her,  I  sent  down  for  them,  and 
made  them  accompany  her  in  a  number  of  songs  which 
she  sang  to  try  them.  Their  intonation  and  expressive 
voices  excited  her  admiration  no  less  than  did  the  piano 
that  of  the  buxom  lasses.  My  reader  must  not  imagine, 
however,  that  the  Tyrolese  are  fond  of  exhibiting  their 
innate  talent  for  music.  Stubbornly  shy,  they  will  often 
refuse  to  sing  any  of  their  national  lays  if  they  see  that 
their  listeners  are  strangers.  Tourists  who  keep  to  the 
frequented  high  roads,  following  the  ruck  of  travelers, 
will  hardly  ever  hear  a  genuine  Tyrolese  song.  To  enjoy 
a  musical  treat  of  this  kind,  we  must  leave  the  carriage- 
roads,  and  strike  into  the  more  unfrequented  paths,  and  if 
possible  visit  remote  Alp-huts.  If  we  do  not  press  the 
"Senner"  or  "Sennerin,"  or  betray  by  any  sign  our  wish 
to  hear  them  sing,  it  is  probable  they  will  begin  of  their 
own  accord. 

Sitting  on  the  low  step  in  front  of  her  chalet,  enjoying 
a  quiet  half-an-hour's  rest  in  the  calm  evening  after  her 
fatiguing  day's  work,  the  "  Sennerin "  will  awake  the 
echoes  of  the  surrounding  heights,  answered  perhaps,  if 
there  be  other  huts  within  earshot,  by  their  inmates. 
Tinkling  bells,  the  rich  silvery  voice  melodiously  tender 
in  all  its  notes,  the  quiet  calm  of  the  evening,  and  the 
grand  landscape,  all  unite  in  producing  an  effect  that  will 
remain  impressed  upon  the  mind  for  many  a  day  to 
come. 

I  may  here  remark  that  the  Tyrolese  entertain  a  pas- 
sionate love  for  the  mimic  art.     The   famous  "  Mystery 


20       G ADDING S  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Plays"  of  the  Middle  Ages  are  supplanted  by  the  modern 
"  Passion  Plays,"  organized  on  the  same  principles  as 
those  at  Ober-Amraergau,  though  in  most  cases  on  a 
much  smaller  scale.  Theatrical  representations  of  all 
descriptions  are  highly  patronized.  Of  the  many  I  have 
had  occasion  to  visit,  I  remember  in  particular  one  — 
given  in  a  small  village  near  Kufstein  —  bearing  the  title 
"Richard,  King  of  England,  or  the  Lovers'  Tomb." 
My  mirth  was  great  when,  as  an  appropriate  finish-up  of 
the  cruel  king,  —  the  chief  character,  —  his  head  was  bit- 
ten off  by  a  make-believe  lion,  while  a  chorus,  consisting 
of  three  peasant  boys  and  two  lasses,  yelled  out,  "  Thus 
perish  all  cruel  monarchs  !  " 


THE  PARADISE  FLAY.  29 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  PARADISE  PLAY. 

EVERYBODY,  of  course,  has  seen  or  heard  of  the  Ober- 
Ammergau  Passion  Play.  Who  has  not  smiled  at  the 
quaint  manner  in  which  Biblo-historical  facts  are  turned 
and  twisted  on  those  niral  boards  ?  Who  has  not  laughed 
at  the  strange  interludes,  the  odd  sights,  and  comic 
anomalies,  that  crop  up  on  those  occasions?  A  "Virgin 
Mary,"  happy  mother  of  a  couple  of  brats ;  a  widowed 
Joseph,  the  village  ne'er-do-well,  as  Christ,  —  do  not  sound 
stranger  to  our  ears,  than  the  remark  in  the  clear  shrill 
voice  of  the  little  fellow,  one  of  the  audience  at  a  T}Tolese 
Passion  Play,  who,  on  hearing  the  cock  crow  for  the  third 
time,  to  the  well-rendered  discomfiture  of  Peter,  cried 
out,  "Oh,  mother,  the  cock  has  surely  laid  an  egg!" 
These  and  a  host  of  other  incidents  of  a  like  nature,  all 
of  which  betoken  the  simple,  uncultured  minds  of  the 
pious  audience,  are  known  to  most.  Far  less  familiar, 
however,  is  the  history  of  the  Miracle  and  Christmas 
plays,  relics  of  bygone  centuries,  the  study  of  which  car- 
ries us  back  to  a  time  when  the  Church  looked  to  the 
stage  as  a  sure  and  safe  medium  to  enchain  the  ignorant, 
rendering  at  the  same  time  their  minds  less  susceptible 
to  the  dangerous  doctrines  promulgated  by  the  heretic 
tongue  of  a  Calvin  or  a  Melanchthon.  In  South  Germany, 
Tyrol  was  undoubtedly  the  cradle  of  these  Mystery  Plays, 
dealing,  as  they  all  did,  v/ith  religious  subjects. 

The  popular  supposition  that  the  Ober-Ammergau  Play 
is  the  sole  remaining  relic  is  incorrect ;  and  an  obsen'ant 


30       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

traveler  who  does  not  shrink  from  turning  the  world  on 
end  by  visiting  Tyrol  at  Christmas  or  Easter-tide,  instead 
of  in  summer  time,  will  find,  if  he  takes  the  trouble  to 
search  in  the  secluded  by-ways  of  the  Alps,  various  kinds 
of  religious  plays  enacted  at  these  two  seasons.  It  is  a 
strange  fact,  and  one  that  illustrates  the  high  rank  in  civ- 
iUzation  occupied  by  the  Tyrolese  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
that  a  people  unacquainted  with  the  commonest  luxuries 
of  life,  hard-vv'orking  as  perhaps  no  other  race  in  Europe, 
and  deprived  by  their  isolated  position  from  all  accesso- 
ries, such  as  tuition  and  books,  to  further  the  develop- 
ment of  this  taste,  should  yet  find  the  wherewithal  to  in- 
dulge in  this  strange  liking. 

One  of  the  most  telling  traits  illustrating  the  age  of 
these  plays,  and  one  which  it  is  difficult  to  rhyme  with 
the  strict,  not  to  say  bigoted,  religious  sense  peculiar  to 
these  people,  is  the  seemingly  irreligious  intermingling  of 
the  most  commonplace  events  of  every-day  life  with  sacred 
episodes  and  saintly  personages  of  the  Old  and  New  Tes- 
taments. Ere  we  harshly  criticise  this  feature,  we  must 
remember  that  the  native  looks  upon  it  in  quite  a  different 
light  than  we  would.  A  peasant,  stanch  Roman  Catho- 
lic though  he  be,  is  so  absolutely  swayed  by  blind  belief 
in  his  creed,  and  by  the  word  of  his  infallible  priest,  that 
to  him  no  wrong  whatever  is  attached  to  the  use,  we  may 
say  abuse,  of  sacred  names  in  connection  with  domestic 
occurrences  or  casualties.     Now  to  our  play. 

"  So  you  have  never  heard  of  our  Paradise  Play  :  that's 
odd  —  I  thought  the  whole  world  knew  of  it ;  long 
enough  we've  played  it,  to  be  sure,  for  you  folks  in  towns 
and  cities  to  have  heard  of  it." 

These  words,  spoken  by  the  red-faced,  jolly-looking 
"wirth,"  —  innkeeper  of  a  snug,  clean-looking  inn  in  the 

village   of  X ,  situated   in   a  remote  corner  of  the 

Eastern  Alps,  were  the  answer  to  a  query  called  forth  by 
hearing  the  unusual  name  "  Paradise  Play  "  mingled  with 
some  remark  made  by  the  talkative  old  fellow. 

"Well,  my  dear  sir,"  he  continued,  "I  can  only  tell 
you  that  if  you've  never  heard  of  it,  much  less  seen  it, 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  3 1 

come  to  this  very  inn,  to  this  very  room,  on  Christmas 
Day,  and  you'll  learn  what  but  simple  peasant  folk  can 
do.  Yes,  yes,  I  tell  you,  you  can't  do  better  than  come," 
he  proceeded,  as,  with  a  glance  at  my  face,  he  took  stock 
of  the  effect  of  his  words. 

"  But,  my  '  lieber  wirth,'  that's  impossible  ;  by  that  time 
I  shall  be  far  away  in  a  strange  country,  in  the  gayest 
city  of  the  world,"  I  answered. 

"  And  is  it  perhaps  not  worth  while  coming  here  for 
the  day  to  see  us,  poor  peasants  as  we  are,  play  the 
'  godly '  Paradise  Play?  " 

The  idea  of  coming  from  Paris  to  this  out-of-the-way 
nook  in  the  center  of  the  Alps,  for  that  purpose,  made 
me  laugh,  to  the  evident  annoyance  of  mine  host. 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  may  laugh,  but  I  can  tell  you  that  a 
better  and  more  righteous  play  you  can't  see,  were  you 
to  search  from  here  to  the  Emperor's  city.  We  have 
played  it  for  many  centuries,  and  nought  but  good  has 
come  of  it." 

I  regret  my  hasty  smile,  for  now,  I  fear,  it  will  prob- 
ably prove  more  difficult  to  get  at  the  kernel  of  the  nut, 
—  the  explanation  of  that  strange-sounding  word.  Un- 
fortunately my  fears  come  true,  for  presently  this  embodi- 
ment of  country  bumpkinism  recommenced  conversation 
by  asking  where  I  might  be  on  Christmas  Day,  that  I 
should  laugh  at  the  idea  of  visiling  the  village. 

"  Paris,  *  herr  wirth  ! '  " 

"  Why,  that's  in  France,  where  they're  continually  chan- 
ging and  chopping  —  now  it's  an  Empire,  now  a  Republic  ; 
now  they  have  one  President,  then  again  another.  They 
are  a  bad  lot,  those  Frenchmen,  and  the  '  Bote,'  "  —  men- 
tioning the  name  of  a  petty  local  newspaper,  containing 
about  as  much  matter  as  would  fill  a  quarter  of  a  column 
in  "The  Times,"  —  "says  they'll  begin  war  soon  again. 
I  was  but  a  child  when  they  were  here  in  1809,  but,  so 
help  me  God,  if  they  come  again,  I  would  be  the  first 
man  in  X who  would  take  up  arms  against  them." 

And,  beating  his  broad  chest  with  his  huge  fist,  the  old 
fellow  looked  the  man  who  would  do  it. 


32       GADDINGS  IVITII  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

The  man  was  nOAV  fairly  launched  in  politics,  and  there 
was  no  use  endeavoring  to  stop  the  voluble  talk  in  which 
half  a  dozen  peasants,  who  had  been  silent  hitherto,  now 
joined. 

I  am  afraid  it  would  hardly  amuse  my  readers  as  much 
as  it  did  mc,  to  listen  to  the  most  astounding  political 
facts,  the  inost  atrocious  canards  —  brought  into  existence 
by  this  eminent  politician,  and  received  by  his  grateful 
audience  v.-ith  nods  of  approval  and  guttural  "Jo,  Jo's." 
To  bring  them  under  some  standard  or  other,  one  may 
say  that  even  a  correspondent  of  "The  New- York  Herald  " 
would  have  turned  avi^ay  v/ith  a  painful  shrug  of  the 
shoulder. 

Now  England  had  just  made  peace  with  the  Russians 
(I  am  writing  of  the  year  1871)  ;  now  it  is  a  Republic  ; 
then,  again,  England's  Queen  had  niarried  a  German, 
Consort  by  name  ;  the  next  minute  Bismarck  is  made  the 
illegitimate  son  of  the  late  King  of  Prussia ;  and  we  are 
told  in  connection  with  this  fact,  that  it  is  only  in  conse- 
quence of  this  circumstance,  that  he  has  acquired  such 
power  over  that  heretic,  the  present  Emperor.  Russia, 
France,  England,  Turkey,  and  the  Crimea,  are  cut  up 
into  a  hash,  from  which  nought  but  the  facts  that  the 
Russians  eat  their  osn\  tallow  candles,  and  the  Turks 
drown  their  superfluous  wives,  appear  with  any  thing  like 
distinctness. 

I  sat  quietly  listening  to  these  political  vagaries.  Not 
even  when  he  was  talking  of  England's  base  policy 
toward  the  "  Icelanders  "  (the  man  meant  "  Irlander  "  — 
Irish)  and  "  the  rest  of  the  colored  races,"  did  I  show 
any  sign  of  hfe,  —  not  even  when  the  positive  fact  was 
narrated  that  the  English  soldiers  in  their  wars  with  the 
"  blacks  "  dip  their  prisoners,  as  a  punishment,  into  a 
chemical  wash,  and  turn  them  white  !  For  the  sake  of 
the  Paradise  Play,  I  kept  my  blood,  though  it  be  half 
that  of  a  "  colored  Icelander,"  in  a  state  corresponding 
with  the  cool  regions  just  named.  Thanks  to  our  silence, 
and  to  the  fact  that  the  peasant  audience  also  seemed 
to  have  a  dark  inkling   of  the  expediency  of  keeping 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  ^ 

quiet,  our  political  volcano  presently  evinced  signs  of 
having  reached  its  climax. 

At  last  he  subsided,  and  I  dared  to  return  to  the  Para- 
dise Play.  It  was  too  soon  ;  for,  leaning  over  toward  me, 
with  his  sparkling  eyes  bent  on  mine,  he  asked,  — 

"  Is  it  not,  perhaps,  quite  true,  what  I've  said?  I  don't 
read  the  priest's  v/eekly  paper  Vvithout  getting  some 
knowledge  of  the  world  from  it." 

Flis  huge  fist  came  down  upon  the  table  with  a  bang, 
and  I  drew  in  my  horns  with  a  celerity  only  equalled  by 
the  alacrity  of  my  answer,  — 

"Yes,  yes;  one  sees  very  plainly  you've  read  your 
papers  attentively." 

Not  five  minutes  later  I  had  brought  him  back  to  the 
track  of  the  play. 

"  Why,  you  see,  the  Paradise  Play  is  a  religious  per- 
formance played  on  Christmas  Day." 

"And  where  do  you  act  it?  —  in  the  church,  or  have 
you  a  separate  building  expressly  for  that  purpose?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  we  play  it  in  this  room  "  (a  \-ery  large  but 
low  chamber),  "and  have  always  acted  it  here  with  the 
exception  of  the  year  this  house  was  burnt  down,  and 
then  it  was  played  in  the  barn  belonging  to  the  Vicarage. 
Here  where  we  sit  is  the  stage ;  and  there,  on  top  of  the 
stove  "  (a  huge  pile  of  pottery  some  five  feet  in  height) , 
"  God  the  Father  has  his  throne,  then  the  stove  is  hidden 
by  a  painted  paper  screen,  representing  clouds.  Once, 
it  is  true,"  he  continued,  '•'  some  mischievous  bo3-s  lit  a 
fire  in  the  stove  during  the  play,  and  in  the  most  in- 
teresting scene,  just  when  Eve  bites  into  the  apple,  God 
the  Father  had  to  jump  down  from  his  tlirone,  which,  of 
course,  had  got  too  warm  for  him  !  F'idn't  the  'boys  all 
laugh  when  he  rushed  out  of  Paradise,  and  out  of  the 
room,  rubbing  his  legs  and  upsetting  the  long  tailor,  who 
that  year  acted  the  Archangel,  and  who,  as  luck  would 
have  it,  was  leaning  on  his  flaming  sword  right  behind 
the  scenes,  ready  to  come  on  the  stage  to  drive  off  Adam 
and  ICve?  I  can  tell  you,  we  were  nearer  laughing  thnn 
crying,  though  the  dark  scowl  of  the  licrr  Vicar,  who 


34       GADDINGS  WITH  A  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

was  sitting  in  the  first  row,  soon  made  us  recollect  the 
sacred  parts  we  were  acting." 

"But  are  all  the  actors  peasants?"  I  asked,  getting 
interested. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  The  most  suitable  men  are  chosen  for 
each  part.  He  who  has  a  long  white  beard  of  venerable 
aspect  is  God  the  Father.  You  see  that  fellow  yonder  " 
(pointing  to  a  white-bearded  old  man,  whose  \mnklcd 
face  and  bent  frame  betokened  a  green  old  age),  "well, 
he  has  been  our  God  the  Father  for  the  last  five  and 
twenty  years,  though  of  late  he  is  getting  too  old  and 
helpless  for  that  hard  part.  Last  Christmas  he  had  to  be 
lifted  on  to  his  throne  before  the  commencement  of  the 
first  scene,  representing  Chaos.  During  the  first  part  of 
that,  God  the  Father  ought  not  to  be  in  sight.  So  he 
had  to  crouch  down  on  his  throne,  and  was  covered  with 
a  blanket,  upon  which  snow  was  piled,  figurating  a  snowy 
park  rising  beyond  the  '  cloud '  screen.  Unfortunately, 
the  heat  of  the  room  melted  the  snow ;  and  when  at  last, 
at  a  most  solemn  moment,  he  had  to  rise,  and  in  his 
character  as  God  the  Father  proclaim  his  Creation  to  his 
angels,  his  draggled  look  and  dripping  clothes  called  out 
a  storm  of  laugliter. 

"  For  the  Evil  One,  we  find,  if  we  can,  a  red-headed 
actor,  with  a  cast  in  his  eye  and  turned-in  toes.  For  the 
Archangel,  a  tall,  middle-aged  man,  v>-ho  is  sure  in  his 
parts,  —  one,  in  fact,  upon  whom  we  can  rely.  This  year 
we  shall  have  to  take  a  smaller  man ;  for  the  tailor,  who 
always  acted  the  Archangel,  was  killed  a  month  or  two 
ago  by  a  fall  from  a  pear-tree." 

"  And  who  acts  Adam  and  Eve  ?  for  we  suppose  these 
two  characters  are  indispensable  in  a  Paradise  Play,"  I 
said,  drawing  the  man  on. 

"  Oh  !  of  course  we've  had  an  Adam,  and  an  Eve  too  ; 
but  as  regards  these  two  parts  being  the  most  important 
ones  in  the  play,  I  say,  and  I  have  always  said,  that  God 
the  Father  has  more  talk  than  Adam  and  Eve  put  to- 
gether. Eve  comes  next,  and  then  the  Archangel.  And 
that's  by  no  means  an  easy  part  to  actj  for  the  actor  must 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  35 

Avork  himself  up  into  a  regular  rage.  Some  of  our  men 
drink  schnapps  for  this  purpose ;  but  though  I  am  the 
person  who  would  get  a  profit  from  these  made-up  rages, 
I  make  it  a  point  to  discourage  schnapps-drinking  by 
those  who  are  engaged  in  our  sacred  play.  For  the 
matter  of  that,  we'll  never  again  have  such  a  fellow  as 
the  long  tailor  to  act  the  Archangel :  he  never  touched 
schnapps,  or  any  liquor  whatever,  until  the  curtain 
dropped  on  the  last  scene. 

"  But  you  asked  me  who  play  Adam  and  Eve  :  well, 
we  choose  the  prettiest  couple  v/e  can  get  hold  of  in  the 
village  ;  and  thank  goodness,  since  God  the  Father,  old 
Kerchler,  yonder  peasant,  made  such  a  fool  of  himself 
in  that  affair  with  his  daughter,  we've  no  difficulty  in  get- 
ting Eves.  Some  ten  or  twelve  years  ago  it  wasn't  so 
easy.  A  couple  of  accidents,  following  close  upon  each 
other,  showing  up  Adam's  sinful  mind,  not  only  on  the 
stage  but  elsewhere,  and  bringing  on  certain  unpleasant 
consequences,  made  parents  fight  sh,y  of  allowing  their 
daughters  to  be  kissed  and  embraced  by  fiery  Adams, 
who,  for  aught  they  knew,  might  be  in  secret  their  lov- 
ers. Well,  some  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  it  happened 
that  we  had  no  Eve  up  to  a  week  before  the  play.  You 
can  see  what  a  fix  we  were  in;  for  married  women  we 
could  not  ask  well  to  take  Eve's  part,  while  of  maidens 
there  were  but  few  who  suited,  and  those  who  did  were 
strictly  forbidden  by  their  parents  to  play  Eve. 

"  Mary,  the  only  daughter  of  our  old  God  the  Father, 
was  by  far  the  most  suitable  lassie ;  but  old  Kerchler 
would  not  hear  of  letting  her  act  that  part.  We  actors 
(for  at  that  time  I  played  the  part  of  one  of  the  Guardi- 
ans of  Hell)  had  a  talk  over  it,  the  upshot  of  which  was 
that  the  long  tailor  was  to  try  his  utmost  to  bring  old 
Kerchler  round.  If  he  failed,  we  were  to  make  use  of  a 
trick  proposed  by  the  tailor  himself,  which  we  all  voted 
for. 

'"No,  tailor,  don't  ask  or  bother  me  any  more,'  said 
old  God  the  Father,  when  our  sly  delegate  went  to  see  him 
the  next  day ;  '  I  won't  allow  my  daughter  to  be  kissed 


36       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

and  hugged  by  a  hot-headed  Adam  before  the  eyes  of  the 
whole  world  :  she's  the  richest  girl  of  the  country  round, 
and  besides,  it's  not  good  for  the  morals  of  any  decent 
young  woman.'  — '  But  I've  got  such  a  modest  milksop 
of  an  Adam,'  urged  the  tailor.  '  No,  I  v/on't ;  the  very 
same  thing  was  said  of  Joe  last  year,  and  yet  the  parents 
of  Eve  have  now  a  young  Joe  on  their  hands.  I  won't, 
and  that's  enough.' 

"  There  was  no  use  in  talking  any  more  :  old  Kerchler 
had  once  said  he  wouldn't,  and  we  all  knew  that  he 
meant  what  he  said.  So  now  v/e  had  to  fall  back  on  our 
stratagem.  The  tailor  again  went  to  old  Kerchler,  and 
told  him  that  owing  to  his  stubborn  refusal,  and  to  the 
fact  that  there  was  no  other  girl  in  the  village  for  an  Eve, 
they  had  decided  that  Adam's  part  should  be  acted  by  a 
girl ;  v\'ould  he  allow  his  daughter  to  take  that  part  ? 
'  That's  something  else,'  retorted  old  Kerchler :  '  why, 
Adam  she  can  play,  if  you  wish,  with  all  my  heart.  At 
least,'  the  old  fellow  continued,  while  a  sly  tv/inkle  shone 
in  his  eyes,  '  there  won't  be  any  danger,  though  of  course 
the  kissing  and  hugging  Wiil  lose  much  of  its  naturalness.' 

"  The  matter  was  settled,  and  pretty  Mary  came  back 
every  evening  from  the  daily  rehearsals,  with  a  bright  blush 
of  mischief  and  happiness  on  her  cheeks.  Kerchler,  who 
had  played  God  the  Father  for  so  many  years,  knew  every 
word  of  his  part  by  heart,  and  of  course  felt  it  below  his 
dignity  io  attend  the  rehearsals.  The  gi-eat  evening  came 
at  last.  Guests  from  the  neighboring  villages  had  been 
coming  in  all  day  long,  and  the  whole  house  was  turned 
topsy-turvy.  The  stage  put  up  across  this  corner,  with 
yonder  door  as  exit,  the  benches  and  rows  of  chairs  ar- 
ranged in  their  places,  the  chairs  in  front,  the  benches 
behind  for  the  commoner  sort  of  visitors  —  all  was  fixed, 
and  the  curtain,  tv/o  sheets  stitched  together,  ready  to  be 
dravv^n  aside. 

"  Behind  the  scenes  all  was  order  and  grave  silence. 
The  actors  were  all  in  their  costumes.  I'he  tailor,  as 
Archangel,  on  his  head  a  fire-brigade  helmet  borrov/ed 
for  the  occasion  from  the  dist.T'-t  tov/n,  in  his  l-jft  hand  a 


THE  PARAD/SE   PI. AY.  37 

huge  round  shield  —  tlie  Hd  of  awash-tub,  covered  on 
one  side  with  gold  paper,  while  in  his  right  he  held  the 
flaming  sword,  made  of  wood,  painted  so  as  to  represent 
flames  dancing  round  the  blade.  The  rest  of  his  dress 
was  of  a  jacket  of  leather,  ornamented  with  glass  beads, 
and  a  pair  of  long  Spanish  hose,  bought  some  thirty 
or  forty  years  ago  from  a  troupe  of  wandering  jugglers. 
The  Evil  One,  dressed  in  the  red  costume  of  the  marker 
at  rifle-matches,  his  face  blacliened,  a  pair  of  horns  fas- 
tened to  his  head,  and  long  claws  made  of  stiff  leather, 
glued  with  cobbler's  wax  to  his  fingers,  looked  very  terrible 
indeed. 

"  Pretty  Mary  was  at  her  post,  in  her  disguise  as  Adam, 
blushing  a  great  deal  at  the  idea  of  appearing  before  the 
pu'blic  in  short  linen  knee-breeches,  and  a  white  hnen 
jacket  cut  low  about  the  breast  —  that  being  the  garment 
worn  customarily  by  Adam.  Eve,  on  the  contrary,  decked 
out  in  a  beautiful  white  robe,  kept  resolutely  in  the  dark 
background.  A  garland  of  oak-leaves  was  ready.  After 
the  fall  of  the  poor  couple  it  was  to  be  fastened  across 
Eve's  dress ;  for  fig-leaves,  you  know,"  my  host  con- 
tinued with  the  gravest  mien,  "  we  can't  get  hereabouts." 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  say  that  Adam  and  Eve  are 
clothed  in  flowing  garments  before  the  Fall?"  we  in- 
quired. 

"  Why,  yes,  of  course  :  you  wouldn't  have  them  come 
out  in  the  naked  state  in  which  men  and  women,  I  am 
told,  are  not  ashamed  to  appear  on  stages  in  your  large 
tovv'ns  and  cities  !  No,  no ;  we  may  be  but  peasants, 
dull  and  stupid  folk  in  your  eyes,  but  v.'e  don't  let  our 
sisters  and  daughters  show  their  forms  scarcely  covered 
by  a  few  scraps  of  gauze,"  replied  the  host. 

"Well,  every  thing  was  ready  ;  the  people  came  crowd- 
ing into  the  room,  for  you  must  know  the  entrance  is  free 
to  everybody  who  chooses  to  come,  for  of  course  it  would 
1)6  wrong  to  make  any  money  out  of  a  sacred  pkiy. 
Once,  many  years  ago,  it  is  true,  a  member  of  the  play, 
the  village  grocer,  proposed  that  we  should  have  an  en- 
trance fee  of  six  krcutzers  "  (two  pence),  "but  he  never 


o 


8       GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


proposed  it  again,  I  can  tell  you.  Such  a  hailstorm  of 
abuse  overwhelmed  him  that  he  was  glad  to  make  his 
escape.  Did  he  think  we  were  a  set  of  wandering  actors, 
who  would  sell  our  ancient  play  for  money  ?  or  did  he 
fancy  we  were  Jews,  willing  to  trade  off  our  souls'  salva- 
tion for  copper  and  silver?"  cried  the  host,  indignant  at 
the  very  memory  of  the  affront. 

"  The  boys  were  at  their  places  behind  the  three  can- 
dles that  light  the  stage,  each  of  them  with  a  small  board, 
and  a  screen  made  of  red  paper  well  oiled,  wherewith 
they  could  either  darken  the  stage,  or  throw  a  red  glow 
upon  the  scene,  according  to  the  prompter's  directions. 
For  many  years  the  schoolmaster  has  held  this  important 
post,  and  a  capital  prompter  he  makes,  though  he  is  the 
dread  of  the  boys,  who  are  always  exposed  to  the  sharp 
point  of  his  long  walking-cane,  by  which  he  directs  the 
use  of  the  screen,  from  the  seat  he  occupies  in  the  front 
row  at  the  side  of  the  Herr  Vicar.  Of  late  years  we've 
often  had  trouble  to  get  the  boys  for  this  office,  for  they 
all  dread  the  schoolmaster's  sharp  tactics  :  now  and  again 
you  will  see  one  of  the  boys  jump  up  with  a  prolonged 
'  0-o-oh,'  and  rub  sundry  parts  of  his  body  with  all  his 
might.  '  Down,  you  rascal,'  the  schoolmaster  will  then 
cry,  and  down  the  boy  goes,  sure  enough. 

"  But  now  attention  :  the  bell  rings,  the  curtain  is  pulled 
on  one  side,  and  before  the  public  hes  Chaos.  The  back- 
ground of  the  stage  is  taken  up  by  a  large  screen  of  blue 
paper,  the  sky,  upon  which  are  sprinkled  in  tasteful  dis- 
order divers  suns,  moons,  stars,  and  comets.  The  stove, 
the  future  throne,  hidden  by  the  screen  representing 
clouds,  is  empty.  About  the  stage,  in  divers  attitudes, 
lie  half  a  dozen  boys  in  cotton  worsted  tights,  with  paste- 
board wings  fastened  to  their  shoulders  :  they  arc  the 
angels. 

" '  Ha,'  cries  one,  '  to-day  is  Blue  Monday ;  the  lazy 
ones  can  sleep  as  long  as  they  like  :  no  one  need  get  up." 

"  '  But  if  God  the  Father  sees  us,'  replied  another, '  we'll 
get  a  good  thrashing,  for  he  told  us  to  pray  and  chant 
as  usual,  and  not  be  idle.' 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  39 

"  '  Oh  !  don't  be  afraid  :  God  the  Father  is  not  at  home 
to-day,  he  is  out  on  the  '  Stor,'^  creating  the  world;  and 
he  told  us  he  wouldn't  be  back  for  a  whole  week.' 

"  '  Ah,  that's  jolly  ! '  cries  the  first  one  again  ;  '  let's  have 
a  week's  holidays  ;  no  praying  and  chanting  for  me.' 

"  '  Now  for  some  fun,'  cry  two  or  three  of  the  ram- 
pageous angels.  A  game  of  leap-frog  is  commenced ; 
then  the  lively  company  resort  to  marbles. 

"  They  are  interrupted  in  their  game  by  the  appearance 
of  the  Archangel  Lucifer,  with  his  lank  black  tresses  wav- 
ing round  his  shoulders,  his  golden  lance  and  shield  in 
his  hands. 

"  '  That's  right,  my  young  friends,'  the  prime  minister 
of  the  Evil  One  commences,  '  pass  your  time  as  best  you 
can  ;  v/ere  I  your  master,  instead  of  God  the  Father,  we'd 
be  jolly  from  year's  end  to  year's  end ;  fowl  and  the  best 
of  wine  would  be  our  daily  fare,  and  figs  and  dates  our 
dessert.  But  the  old  gentleman  is  a  grumpy  old  fellow, 
who  thinks  more  about  creating  new-fangled  contrivances, 
such  as  that  work  of  his  that  occupies  him  at  present, 
than  of  jollity  and  good  fare.  May  he  have  endless 
trouble  with  that  world  he  is  now  creating  !  may  his  hair 
turn  gray  before  he  has  finished  with  it,'  exclaims  the 
Devil's  archangel. 

"  These  treasonable  remarks  of  Lucifer  are  not  without 
effect  upon  his  listeners.  Some  clap  their  hands,  others 
cry,— 

"  '  Oh,  let's  have  him  for  our  master  !  we're  tired  of 
fasting,  praying,  and  chanting  the  livelong  day.'  Two 
only  are  silent,  and  turn  their  backs  on  the  fiendish 
tempter. 

"  In  this  manner  the  week  passes,  the  intervals  of  night 
being  indicated  by  darkening  the  stage  for  a  few  minutes 
at  a  time,  while  the  angels  lie  about  the  stage  asleep. 
Saturday  afternoon,  four  strokes  on  a  bell  behind  the 
scenes  denote  that  it  is  four  o'clock. 

*  Being  on  the"Stor"i.s  the  expression  in  use  in  Tyrol,  indicating  that  an 
artisan,  ccncrally  the  village  cobbler  or  tailor,  is  on  his  round  of  visits  in  quest  of 
work.  He  will  remain  a  week  or  so  in  each  house,  receiving  his  board  ami  a  trifle 
as  wages.     In  most  valleys  this  is  a  common  proccedin!;. 


40      GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

"  '  Now,  you  beggars,  be  quiet,'  cries  one  of  tlie  good 
angels,  '  it's  four  o'clock,  and  you  know  God  the  Father 
knocks  off  work  at  that  hour.  He  must  be  here  pres- 
ently.' Vvhile  he  is  saying  this,  a  seventh  angel  comes 
running  across  the  stage,  singing,  — 

" '  Praised  be  God  the  father.  He  has  finished  the  crea- 
tion, and  will  be  back  with  }'ou  presently.' 

"  The  last  comer  sits  down  in  a  circle  formed  by  his 
comrades,  and  narrates  to  them  the  various  wonders  of 
their  master's  creation.  He  dv/ells  in  glowing  language 
on  the  beauty  and  joys  of  Paradise,  and  tells  them  it  vv'iil 
be  the  happiest  day  of  their  lives  vdien  they  will  be 
initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  this  new  world.  Lucifer, 
standing  apart  from  the  group,  interrupts  all  of  a  sudden 
the  brilliant  description,  by  telling  them  not  to  be  such 
fools  as  to  believe  that  they  will  ever  see  any  thing  of 
Paradise  ;  with  a  sneering  smile  of  victory  on  his  face,  he 
continues  to  dilate  upon  the  wretched  lives  they  lead. 
and  closes  with  the  promise  to  bring  them  to  a  place  far 
superior  to  Paradise.  He  has  hardly  finished,  when  God 
the  Father,  rising  on  his  stove  throne,  becomes  visible ; 
the  music  falls  in  with  a  grand  crash,  and  the  angels, 
wholly  forgetful  of  the  wicked  language  they  have  just 
listened  to  v/ith  eager  ears,  commence  to  chant,  v.'hile 
Lucifer,  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  rushes  from  the 
stage.  A  threshing-machine  behind  the  scenes,  worked 
by  a  couple  of  strong  arms,  makes  the  hollow  thunder  to 
set  off  the  evil  counsellor's  hasty  exit.  The  solemn  an- 
nouncement, that  heaven  and  earth,  the  stars,  moon,  and 
sun  are  created,  and  that  the  morrow  is  the  clay  of  rest, 
flows  from  the  lips  of  God  the  Father,  who  proceeds  to 
tell  Flis  audience  that  hkewise  has  He  made  living  crea- 
tures of  every  kind,  bulls  and  cows,  cocks  and  hens,  asses 
and  pigs,  and,  to  have  dominion  over  them.  He  has 
shaped  after  Plis  own  image  a  being  called  man,  and  for 
his  abode  He  would  plant  a  garden  called  Paradise. 

"This  finishes  the  Heavenly  Father's  speech,  and,  turn- 
ing round  on  his  throne,  he  ducks  down  belijnd  his 
screen,  which  closes  the  first  scene. 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  41 

"  Hearty  applause  tells  of  the  audience's  admiration. 
A  pause  of  some  ten  minutes  then  follows,  after  which 
the  curtain  is  again  pulled  aside,  displaying  a  representa- 
tion of  certain  underground  regions.  It  is  hell,  fiery  de- 
moniacal hell,  with  all  its  infernal  machinery,  instruments 
of  torture,  and  trapfalls  for  human  folly.  The  center  of 
the  stage  is  occupied  by  a  portable  forge,  upon  which  a 
bright  coal-fire  is  burning  ;  a  large  butcher's  block  stands 
to  the  right,  while  huge  knives,  gigantic  tongs,  and 
brightly-polished  axes  htter  the  foreground.  To  the  left 
of  the  forge  we  see  a  couple  of  huge  boilers  filled  with 
steaming  water.  The  stage  is  lit  up  by  means  of  the  red 
screens,  and  loud  howling  and  gnashing  of  teeth  and 
the  most  piercing  shrieks  increase  the  horrors  of  the  pic- 
ture. A  harsh  blast  of  trumpets  brings  in  the  Archangel 
Lucifer,  the  master  of  this  fearful  place.  He  is  attended 
by  a  troupe  of  young  imps,  and  devils  on  a  small  scale, 
who  jump  and  caper  round  him  in  wicked  glcefulness. 
Seating  himself  on  his  throne,  the  butcher's  bloody  block, 
lie  catches  hold  of  the  signs  of  his  office,  —  a  heavy  iron 
';hain  painted  a  bright  red  to  represent  red  heat,  and  a 
pitchfork.  Round  his  neck  is  hung  a  chain  of  teeth, 
human  fingers  (of  wax),  —  those  that  were  forfeited  to 
him  for  slander  and  perjury,  —  and  bunches  of  lank 
witches'  hair,  and  several  dried  toads. 

"  \Vhcn  he  gets  fixed  up  that  way,  Lucifer  holds  court. 
Hard  questions  are  brought  up.  The  new  Creation  is 
spoken  of,  and  the  chances  of  overthrowing  the  rule  of 
God  the  Father.  We  hear  of  the  various  weak  points  of 
human  nature,  pride,  lust,  jealousy,  greed,  &c.,  how  ad- 
vantage could  be  taken  of  each  one,  and  how  God's  in- 
fluence could  be  overcome.  The  talk  is  presently  inter- 
rupted by  two  imps,  who  v/e  sec  are  two  of  the  angels  of 
the  Chaos  scene,  who  seemed  to  give  heed  to  Luciier's 
words,  and  followed  him  down  to  his  undergi-ound  home. 

"  They  have  found  out  their  mistake  too  late. 

'"The  fowls  you  promised  us  are  burnt  to  a  cinder, 
and  the  wine  is  pure  vinegar,  and  the  heat  is  intolerable,' 
they  cry  out  in  a  piteous  tone. 


42       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIM  I  FIVE  PEOPLE. 

"  A  loud  peal  of  fiendish  laughter  is  the  answer,  and 
Lucifer  holds  his  sides,  at  the  bad  fix  he  has  got  his  vic- 
tims in. 

"Now  you  are  here,  you  imps/  he  tells  them,  'and, 
what's  more,  you'll  remain  here  for  ever,  unless  some 
confounded  Christian  makes  a  fool  of  himself  by  under- 
taking some  pilgrimage  on  your  behalf ! ' 

"  Thereupon  the  deceived  angels  set  up  a  wail  of  dis- 
may, and  the  consultation  they  had  interrupted  is  begun 
again. 

" '  Which  of  you  has  the  smoothest  tongue,  and  can 
wriggle  along  the  ground  serpent-fashion  ? '  asks  Lucifer 
of  his  company. 

"  From  several  candidates  for  this  office,  one  is  chosen, 
and  instructed  how  to  act. 

"The  weak  points  of  Eve's  sex  —  disobedience  and 
curiosity  —  are  to  be  attacked. 

"  A  screech  of  delight  is  the  answer  to  this  news,  and 
a  hellish  song  in  praise  of  his  Satanic  Majesty  close  the 
second  scene. 

"  The  third  scene  is  a  short  one,  and  represents  to  the 
eager  public.  Paradise  in  its  perfect  peace. 

"  God  the  Father  occupies  his  stove-throne,  while  Adam 
stands  in  the  center  of  the  garden  near  a  rosebush,  bor- 
rowed for  the  occasion  from  the  village  priest's  garden. 

"  A  long  '  Ah  ! '  goes  through  the  room. 

"'Why,  it's  Kerchler's  Mary,'  is  on  the  lips  of  every- 
body. 

"  Adam,  not  dreaming  of  the  amazement  his  appear- 
ance has  called  forth,  is  chanting  a  song  in  praise  of  his 
Creator. 

"  God  the  Father,  supposed  to  be  invisible  to  Adam, 
nods  all  the  time,  pleased  at  the  praise  bestowed  upon 
him. 

"  When  the  song  is  finished,  Adam  amuses  himself  by 
a  walk  round  the  place,  and  while  doing  so  has  a  con- 
versation with  sundry  animals,  which  are,  however,  only 
heard,  not  seen. 

"  Presently  God  the  Father  intcrmpts  Adam  by  asking 
him  where  Eve  is. 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  43 

"  *  Master,  she  is  asleep  beneath  yonder  tree/  exclaims 
Adam,  in  a  voice  like  a  bell. 

"  '  If  she's  asleep,  let  her  be  ;  she'll  give  you  trouble 
enough  before  you've  finished  with  her !  Adam,  I'm 
here  as  your  master,  I  wish  to  satisfy  myself  of  your 
obedience,  so  mark  my  words.  You  see  that  apple-tree 
yonder?  Neither  you  nor  the  woman  Eve  may  taste  of 
its  fruit.  It  will  be  the  worse  for  both  of  you  if  you  break 
my  commandment.' 

"A  few  more  orders  that  would  have  been  just  in  their 
place  had  Adam  been  a  mischievous  schoolboy,  close 
their  talk,  and  God  the  Father  again  ducks  and  disap- 
pears from  the  eyes  of  the  public. 

"  Now  everybody  is  excited.  The  audience  is  dying 
to  see  Eve,  for,  strange  to  say,  nobody  seems  to  know  who 
plays  that  part.  ^Vhispered  guesses  —  all  of  which,  after 
all,  turn  out  to  be  wrong — go  the  round  of  the  crowded 
room. 

"  Always  before  that  everybody  knew  the  ins  and  outs 
of  the  play,  and  the  actors,  long  before  the  great  day ; 
but  this  time  it  was  quite  something  else,  for  Eve,  hke 
Adam,  astonished  them  no  little ;  but  what  v/as  that  in 
comparison  to  the  surprise  in  store  for  them  ! 

"  The  fourth  and  last  scene  in  the  play  again  shows  the 
Garden  of  Eden  —  where  the  temptation  and  fall  took 
]jlacc.  Towards  the  end  of  the  scene  God  the  Father 
has  to  walk  across,  and  can  not  of  course  occupy  his 
throne,  for  a  descent  from  it  would  spoil  the  effect  of  the 
whole.  So  he  has  to  wait  outside  till  he  is  due  on  the 
stage. 

"  Ting,  ting,  sounds  the  bell,  and  aside  goes  the  cur- 
tain. 

"  Adam  and  Eve  are  seen  embracing  each  other  most 
lovingly,  in  a  sort  of  bower  formed  by  thick  rose-bushes 
and  young  fir-trees.  We  hear  the  splashing  of  a  little 
waterfall  behind  the  scenes,  and  a  lively  concert  of  vari- 
ous animals'  voices  is  kept  up,  such  as  the  braying  of 
asses,  the  bellowing  of  bullocks,  the  lowing  of  cows,  the 
bleating  of  sheep,  the  barking  of  dogs,  the  caterwauling 


44       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRTMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

of  a  tom-cat,  mixed  in  with  cock-crows,  and  the  grunt  of 
pigs. 

"Then  the  voice  of  God  the  Father,  who  himself  is 
invisible,  and  is  speaking  through  the  wrong  end  of  a 
paper  trumpet  to  lend  distance  to  his  words,  is  heard 
lecturing  Adam,  closing  his  charge  with  the  words  — 
'  And  man  shall  leave  father  and  mother,  and  cleave  unto 
his  wife,  and  they  shall  be  one.' 

"  Every  eye  is  fixed  upon  Eve,  a  tall,  fine  figure,  with 
a  healthy  bloom  on  her  fresh  pretty  face,  shaded  by 
short,  crisp  curls  of  dark  brown  hair.  The  dark,  fiery 
eyes  are  Ijent  with  the  greatest  tenderness  on  those  of 
Adam,  who  is  somewhat  smaller  in  size. 

"'Who  can  she  be?'  everybody  asks.  'She  must  be 
a  stranger,  for  nobody  can  recollect  the  face.' 

"  Eve,  meanwhile,  turns  round,  and  looks  with  a  long- 
ing glance  at  an  apple-tree,  hung  with  imitation  fruit 
about  the  size  of  small  pumpkins. 

"'Come,  Eve,  my  dearest,'  Adam  exclaims,  'come,  let 
us  sing  a  song  in  praise  of  our  merciful  Creator.  Hark  ! 
how  fi"om  sheer  happiness  these  animals  bellov/,  bray, 
bark,  grunt,  and  crow.  Listen  to  those  birds  yonder, 
hov/  sweetly  they  warble.  Don't  let  us  remain  behind 
the  beasts  of  the  field  in  praising  our  God.' 

"  Eve,  however,  of  a  more  worldly  mind,  takes  no  heed 
of  her  mate's  words,  but  remarks,  — 

"  '  Come,  Adam,  I  be  hungry  ;  let's  have  some  break- 
fast.' 

"  A  din  of  smothered  laughter,  a  buzz  of  '  ah's '  and 
'oh's,'  on  the  part  of  the  audience,  now  make  themselves 
heard.     Who  Eve  is  has  been  discovered  by  her  voice. 

"  What  a  joke  !  What  fun  !  It's  Toni,  the  school- 
master's son,  and  pretty  Mary's  lover,  as  everybody  in 
the  village  but  her  father  v/ell  knew. 

"  Quiet  being  restored,  Eve  goes  on,  — 

" '  Look,  Adam,  look,  how  beautiful  these  apples  are.' 

"  '  My  Eve,  don't  you  remember  that  God  the  Father 
has  forbidden  us  to  eat  them?  Let  us  go;  we'll  find 
something  better.' 


THE  FARADISE  PLAY.  45 

"  '  Oh,  Adam  !  do  look,'  urges  Eve.  '  Let's  have  at 
least  a  taste.  God  the  Father  has  surely  not  counted 
them  ;  just  one.  It's  a  downright  shame  to  let  them  rot 
on  the  tree.' 

"  '  No,  Eve,'  replies  Adam,  '  no,  it's  forbidden  fruit, 
and  God  the  Father  is  the  best  judge  why  he  has  pro- 
hibited us  to  eat  of  it.'  Eve,  however,  won't  leave  the 
dangerous  neighborhood.  '  Look,  Adam,'  she  cries, 
'•'  look  at  that  serpent :  he  has  picked  one  of  the  apples, 
and  is  holding  it  towards  us.' 

"If  you  love  me.  Eve,"  Adam  replies,  putting  his  arm 
around  her  waist,  and  breathing  a  hot  kiss  on  her  brow, 
'don't  touch  it.' 

"  'And,  if  I  am  your  beloved  Eve,  you  won't  re- 
fuse '  — 

"  Eve  had  not  time  to  finish  the  sentence,  for  God  the 
Father,  returning  from  his  dressing-shed  to  the  back  of 
the  stage,  had  been  rooted  to  the  spot,  horror-struck  by 
the  sight  that  met  his  eyes.  His  daughter  hugged  and 
kissed  by  that  young  dog  of  a  schoolmaster's  son  !  A 
youth  of  no  future  prospects  —  in  fact,  a  poor  simple 
student  —  daring  to  embrace  and  kiss  his  daughter,  the 
richest  girl  of  the  neighborhood  !  Forgetting  the  char- 
acter he  was  playing,  and  his  venerable  appearance, 
the  enraged  father  wrenched  the  'flaming  sword'  from  the 
hands  of  the  amazed  Archangel  Michael,  and,  before  the 
latter  had  time  to  hinder  his  mad  design,  God  the  Father 
was  seen  rushing  across  the  stage  — 

"  'You  scoundrel,  how  dare  you  kiss  my  daughter?  I'll 
teach  you  to  deceive  me,'  cried  the  enraged  father ;  '  be 
off,  and  never  let  me  set  eyes  on  you  again,'  and  the  flam- 
ing sword  was  all  the  while  raining  down  blows  on  the 
unfortunate  lover's  back  ! 

"  Loud  shouts  of  laughter  interrupted  these  angry 
words.  The  audience,  shaken  with  mirth,  and  fully  en- 
joying the  comic  and  novel  termination  of  their  play, 
cheered  with  all  its  might ;  and  so  ended  that  remarkable 
Christmas  play,"  said  our  burly,  good-humored  host. 

My  interest  in  the  future  of  the  young  couple  having 


46       GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

naturally  been  aroused,  I  ask  him  to  give  some  further 
detail. 

"  Well,  mein  lieber  Herr,  Eve  did  at  last  taste  of  that 
dangerous  inviting  apple  ;  but  it  was  fruit  not  easily  to  be 
got,  for  her  purse-proud  old  father,  having  in  his  ignor- 
ant peasant  breast  a  thorough  contempt  for  the  educated 
though  poor  and  self-made  young  student,  would  not  hear 
of  granting  her  great  wish. 

"■ '  How  dared  the  poor  j'-oung  bookworm,  who,  if  his 
learned  brain  gave  out,  did  not  even  know  how  to  litter  a 
cow,  aspire  to  the  hand  of  his  daughter,  the  richest  girl 
of  the  whole  village,  who  would  in  time  be  mistress  of  a 
large  farm  and  some  forty  head  of  cattle  ? ' 

"  A  year  or  two  passed  :  the  young  bookworm  had  got 
through  with  his  studies,  and  was  duly  entered  as  engi- 
neer, with  a  salary  large  enough  to  satisfy  such  simple 
wants  as  Adam  and  Eve  would  be  apt  to  have.  And 
what  then  could  stand  in  the  way  of  their  making  real 
the  v/ords,  '  And  man  shall  leave  father  and  mother,  and 
cleave  unto  his  wife,'  spoken  by  God  the  Father  that 
eventful  evening?  And  so  Adam,  fair  Mary,  did  lea\-e 
his  father,  to  cleave  thenceforth  to  Eve,  the  self-made 
young  engineer.  Fate  favored  the  persevering  young 
couple,  and  the  baby  arras  of  a  young  Cain  accomplished 
what  no  other  earthly  power  could,  —  the  reconciliation 
with  Mary's  stubborn-hearted  parent,  the  irascible  God 
the  Father  of  our  play,  thus  filling  their  cup  of  happiness 
to  the  brim." 

We  are  at  the  end  of  our  story,  and  pause  to  ponder 
over  the  strange  influence  these  rurally  primitive  boards 
exercise  over  the  minds  of  the  untutored  peasantry,  up- 
held and  encouraged  as  their  religious  representations  are, 
unto  this  very  day,  by  the  Church. 

No  distance  is  too  great,  no  passes  too  steep  or  rough, 
no  march  on  dusty  high  roads  too  fatiguing,  if  a  Miracle 
or  Passion  Play  is  their  goal. 

One  meets  entire  families,  consisting  perhaps  of  three 
and  four  generations,  toiling  along  little-trodden  paths. 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  47 

You  can  watch  the  feeble  old  grandfather  leaning  heavily 
on  his  staff;  or,  if  the  means  of  the  family  are  such, 
comfortably  seated  on  some  bundles  of  straw  on  the 
springless  two-wheeled  cart,  drawn  by  the  wall-eyed  mare, 
very  likely  a  contemporary  of  the  old  man's  prime.  At 
the  side  of  the  vehicle  trudges  the  weather-beaten  father, 
erect  and  firm,  but  yet  far  advanced  towards  middle  age  ; 
his  eyes,  shaded  by  his  strongly-marked  brows,  are  bent 
with  scrutiny  on  the  members  of  the  party  under  his  care. 

The  son,  a  picture  of  manly  bearing,  in  the  early  prime 
of  life,  is  attired  in  his  Sunday  best,  his  bronzed  knees 
showing  well,  his  gray  frieze  coat  thrown  jauntily  over  his 
shoulders,  his  ruddy  face  shaded  by  the  broad-brimmed 
T>Tolese  hat,  adorned  with  the  feather  of  the  blackcock. 
Though  evidently  he  is  married  —  for  at  his  heels  trots 
his  eldest  born,  his  chubby  little  fist  clasped  in  the  hand 
of  his  buxom,  gayly-attired  mother — he  has  not  quite 
lost  that  gay  devil-may-care  look,  that  keen  sparkle  of 
his  eye,  that  cock-of-the-walk  stride,  which  gave  him  the 
victory  over  the  numerous  rivals  to  the  hand  of  the  wo- 
man at  his  side,  once  the  belle  of  her  village.  His  youth- 
ful spirit  betrays  itself  in  the  very  act  of  pushing  his  hat 
more  knowingly  on  one  side,  as  he  answers  one  of  his 
wife's  merry  sallies. 

Though  she  be  freckled  by  life-long  exposure  to  the 
sun's  hottest  rays,  and  though  her  face  and  neck  are 
burnt  to  a  ruddy  red  while  guarding  her  father's  cattle  on 
that  Alpine  pasture  high  up  yonder,  exposed  now  to  the 
fierce  blasts  of  icy-cold  winds,  now  to  noontide  heat,  or 
to  the  sleety  rain  of  Alpine  heights ;  her  dimpled  smile, 
her  niby  lips,  her  sparkling  blue  eyes,  have  lost  none  of 
their  freshness,  and  are  yet  in  the  sight  of  her  husband 
the  embodiment  of  mortal  charms,  and  the  fountain  of 
all  the  happiness  which  braces  him  for  his  toilsome,  hard- 
working life. 

Hot  and  weary,  the  dust-begrimed  troupe  make  a  holt 
in  the  cool  shade  of  the  pine  forest,  flanking  on  both 
sides,  for  many  a  mile  to  come,  the  high  road. 

The  mare  is  unharnessed  and  turned  to  graze  ;  the  old 


48       GADDINGS  WITH  A  PRIMITIVE  PEOPIE. 

grandfather  is  lifted  down  from  the  cart  and  seated  on  a 
cushion  of  vekety  moss  in  the  center  of  the  group,  who 
are  all  taking  their  rest  in  the  most  varied  positions.  The 
curly-headed  little  fellow,  with  his  head  resting  on  his 
mother's  lap,  has  fallen  asleep,  tired  out  by  a  long  tramp 
from  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  mid-day.  Pipes  are 
pulled  out  from  various  pockets,  tobacco-pouches  of  enor- 
mous size  are  produced,  and  the  process  of  filling  the 
huge  bowls  is  being  undergone  in  that  characteristically 
sedate  and  patient  manner  peculiar  to  Tyrolese  peasantry. 

Cy  dint  of  endless  pulling,  and  after  blackening  the 
tips  of  their  fingers  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  ignite  the 
stuff  with  which  their  pipes  are  filled,  it  is  at  last  set 
ablaze.  Vile  as  the  tobacco  is,  the  men  relish  it  v/ith  a 
zest  wholly  unaccountable  to  a  person  who  has  once 
smelt  its  fumes ;  but  there  are  ways  and  means  of  im- 
proving it.  That  strapping  young  fellow  stretched  out  at 
full  length  at  the  feet  of  a  comely  black-eyed  lass  is  in 
the  act  of  "  improving,"  for  is  it  in  the  nature  of  even 
the  vilest  of  tobacco  to  retain  its  stench  and  to  burn  one's 
tongue,  if  it  has  been  set  ablaze  by  the  lips  of  the  loved 
one? 

An  hour  elapses,  conversation  is  flagging,  but  the  pipes 
are  alight,  and  no  signs  that  their  contents  are  coming  to 
an  end.  "  There  is  nothing  like  a  tobacco  that  keeps 
burning  for  a  good  time  :  none  of  your  stuff  which  is 
consumed  before  one  has  time  to  pray  a  '  Vater  unser,'  " 
pater  noster,  as  I  once  was  told  by  a  peasant,  who  upheld 
the  merits  of  the  saltpeter-drenched  Tyrolese  manufac- 
ture. Presently,  however,  the  fiery  furnaces  cease  smok- 
ing, and  the  pipes  are  cleared  of  the  ashes  by  knocking 
them  against  the  sole  of  the  hob-nailed  shoe. 

The  party,  now  rested  and  cooled,  must  soon  be  start- 
ing; for  the  \'illage  where  they  intend  remaining  the 
night  is  a  good  way  off  Before  setting  out,  however,  a 
roomy  basket,  hitherto  hidden  from  sight  betv/een  the 
bundles  of  straw  in  the  cart,  is  pulled  forth,  and  a  simple 
but  substantial  meal  is  produced  from  it  by  the  head  of 
the  party.     Everybody  sets  to  with  gusto  to  demolish  the 


rilE  PARADISE  PLAY.  49 

luxuries,  —  a  haunch  of  bacon,  a  loaf  of  black  bread,  and 
a  pint  of  s])irits,  —  which  the  careful  paterfamilias  has  pro- 
vided for  them. 

In  this  way  a  whole  family  travels  a  comparatively 
considerable  distance  without  expending  money,  save 
perhaps  the  sixpence  which  is  pressed  into  the  unwilling 
hand  of  the  kindly  owner  of  the  hayloft,  their  night  quar- 
ters. In  the  evening  of  the  second  or  third  day  they 
reach  their  goal.  Tired  out  by  a  weary  day's  march,  they 
long  to  stretch  their  limbs  embedded  in  soft  hay,  but, 
alas  !  the  tiny  village  is  filled  to  overflowing  by  crowds  of 
peasants,  who  have  all  come  hither  to  see  the  grand  play 
on  the  morrow.  The  haylofts,  the  barns,  the  spare  bed- 
rooms of  the  modest  little  village  inns,  are  one  and  all 
filled.  No  room  to  be  had  for  love  or  money.  Here  a 
sturdy  peasant,  surrounded  by  his  wife  and  half  a  dozen 
girls  of  all  ages  and  sizes,  is  bemoaning  his  fate,  —  twenty 
kreutzers  (four  pence)  per  head,  which  that  cheat  of  a 
schoolmaster  demanded  for  the  privilege  of  encamping 
for  the  night  in  a  breezy  barn  Avith  half  of  its  roof  off ! 
p]ut  what  could  he  do?  his  wife  was  in  delicate  health; 
on  her  account  he  could  not  risk  camping  out  in  the  open 
air. 

"  Why  had  she  come,  poor  woman?  this  was  no  place 
for  her." 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  must  know  that  she's  had  five  girls  run- 
ning, and  now  that  her  time  is  approaching,  we  are  going 
to  visit  the  renowned  shrine  of  the  Holy  Virgin  in  the 
next  village.  They  say  there  is  none  like  it  in  the  whole 
country,  and  maybe  in  the  whole  world,  for  working  mir- 
acles in  this  particular  line  ;  you  see,  sons  are  so  much 
more  useful  than  girls ;  and  now  that  we  have  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  in  prayer  at  the  Virgin's  shrine, 
and  offered  two  large  pound  candles  and  a  waxen  boy,^ 
we  thought  we  would  stay  a  day  longer  from  home,  and 
see  the  play  to-morrow ;  but  times  are  changed,  and 
every  thing  is  so  dear,  that  a  poor  peasant  like  me  ought 
never  to  venture  out  of  his  home  valley.     Twenty  kreut- 

'  A  miniature  child  of  wax  hung  up  as  a  votive  offering  in  shrines  and  chapels. 


50       GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

zers  each  for  seven ;  that's,  let  me  see,  a  florin,  forty 
kreutzers,  less  than  three  shillings  ;  why,  it's  monstrous  !  " 

And  the  peasant  turned  away  from  his  companions  in 
misfortune,  to  seek  an  airy  resting-place  in  the  barn,  which 
the  rascally  schoolmaster  had  imposed  upon  him.  Our  own 
party,  well-to-do  peasantry  from  the  fertile  Unter  Innthal, 
can  afford  to  spend  three  or  four  shillings  for  the  two  rooms 
which  are  still  to  be  had  in  one  of  the  village  inns. 

The  paterfamilias,  a  strict  observer  of  decorum,  mar- 
shals the  females  of  his  party  into  one  room,  while  the 
men,  not  too  tired  to  indulge  in  some  beer  before  they 
retire,  retain  the  smaller  one. 

The  bar-room  down  stairs,  a  large  chamber,  is  filled 
with  a  noisy  crowd,  drinking,  playing  at  cards,  or  throw- 
ing dice  for  glasses,  or  rather  jugs,  of  beer;  a  thick  veil 
of  tobacco-smoke  hides  the  features  of  those  sitting  in 
the  farther  end  of  the  room.  The  two  stout  Kellnerinen, 
buxom  and  blooming  on  other  occasions,  are  puffed  and 
exceedingly  red  in  the  face,  from  stress  of  work  and  con- 
stant running  up  and  down  the  steep  cellar-stairs. 

The  burly,  good-tempered  old  host  greets  us  with  a 
friendly  nod  and  a  touch  of  his  green  skull-cap,  as  he 
makes  room  for  us  at  the  table  where  he  had  been  sitting. 
Conversation  stops  for  a  moment,  and  when  the  curiosity 
of  the  six  or  seven  men  sitting  round  us  has  at  last  been 
satisfied  by  a  prolonged  stare,  talk  is  recommenced. 

At  first  we  can  hardly  hear  a  word  of  the  conversa- 
tion, though  some  is  carried  on  at  the  very  table  we  are 
occupying.  The  roar  and  din  are  terrific,  —  loud  laugh- 
ter, louder  calls  for  schnapps  or  wine,'  snatches  of  merry 
songs,  and  conversations  carried  on  in  the  loudest  key 
right  across  the  room,  from  one  table  to  the  other,  make 
moderately  loud  talking  quite  inaudible.  If  you  wish  to 
converse,  you  had  better  pitch  your  voice  to  a  shout,  or 
you  won't  be  heard.  A  momentary  lull  discovers  that  a 
zither  is  being  played  at  the  other  end  of  the  room ;  a 
second  later,  and  its  tones  are  again  entirely  drowned  by 
the  din. 

'  Wine  being  very  cheap  in  Tyrolj  it  is  drunk  by  the  poorest. 


THE  PARADISE   PLAY.  51 

A  terrific  crash  at  the  table  behind  makes  us  turn 
round  sharply.  "  Ah,  they  are  at  it  again,"  we  hear 
somebody  say.  "  At  what  are  they  ?  "  we  ask,  astonished, 
for  our  expectations  to  witness  a  fight  are  seemingly  not 
to  be  fiilfilled  ;  there  is  nothing  hostile  in  the  act  of  slam- 
ming down  on  the  table  a  leather  purse  filled  with  silver 
llorins  and  thalers.  But  yet,  strange  as  it  seems,  this  pro- 
ceeding is  nevertheless  frequently  the  prologue  to  a  dire 
qviarrel. 

The  two  bucks  of  the  valley,  the  only  sons  of  the 
richest  peasants  of  that  district,  are  the  actors.  The 
purport  of  slamming  down  the  purse,  and  of  emptying  its 
contents  on  the  table,  is  simply  to  challenge  the  rival  to 
do  the  same  ;  and  the  one  who  can  show  the  most  wins. 
In  fertile  and  therefore  rich  valleys,  such  as  the  Unter 
Innthal  and  the  Zillerthal,  these  peculiar  manifestations 
by  vain-glorious,  hot-headed  peasants'  sons  are  not  infrc- 
(juent ;  and,  though  this  species  of  rivalry  is  by  no  means 
a  laudable  one,  we  must  look  at  it  in  the  light  of  an 
emanation  of  boyish  pride  called  forth  by  some  sneering 
taunt  of  "apron-strings,"  and  "short  commons,"  rather 
than  as  an  instance  of  purse-proud  bumptiousness.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  this  rivalry  is  not  as  harmless  as  it 
appears,  for  it  frequently  sows  the  seed  of  a  lile-long  ani- 
mosity. Far  better  that  the  matter  be  settled  on  the  spot 
by  a  fair  fight,  and  the  victor  and  vanquished  shake 
hands  afterwards,  the  best  friendj  in  the  world. 

Let  us  watch  the  two  hot-headed  youths  before  us. 
They  eagerly  count  over  their  money ;  one,  however,  has 
nearly  ten  florins  more  than  the  other,  and  the  vanquished, 
scratching  his  head  and  looking  very  foolish,  declares 
himself  beaten.  A  bright  thought,  however,  flashes  across 
his  mind  :  he  remembers  that  the  wirth  of  the  inn  owes 
his  father  nigh  upon  twenty  florins  for  oats  and  barley. 
Covering  the  heap  of  silver  money  on  the  table  with  his 
hat,  he  rushes  off  to  the  host,  and  comes  back  triumphantly 
with  two  crisp  ten-florin  notes  in  his  hand.  "  I've  won  ; 
here  are  twenty  florins  more,"  he  cries,  as  he  flings  the 
notes  upon  the  table.     "  No,  by  George,  you  haven't ; 


52       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

that  isn't  in  the  game,"  his  foe  rejoins.  Eventually  it  is 
decided  that  this  novel  stratagem  was  not  permissible, 
but  that  the  issue  of  the  bet  Vi'as  to  be  decided  by  "  Fing- 
erhackeln." 

This  game,  or  rather  struggle,  is  a  f.imple  trial  of 
strength  of  aim  and  biceps.  The  table  is  cleared,  and 
the  two  competitors  seated  opposite  each  other,  with  the 
table  between  them,  stretch  out  their  right  hands  so  as  to 
let  them  meet  in  the  center.  Each,  bending  the  middle 
fmgcr  into  the  shape  of  a  hook,  intwines  it  with  that  of 
the  rival.  At  a  given  signal,  each  begins  to  pull,  the 
object  being  to  drag  the  antagonist  right  across  the 
board. 

Both  Vv'ere  strapping  young  fellows,  each  eager  to  show 
off  his  provN^ess,  and  the  fact  that  they  were  well-known 
adepts  at  it,  rendered  the  struggle  doubly  interesting. 
Victory  swayed  hither  and  thither ;  the  most  prodigious 
efforts  were  made  to  wrest  the  slightest  advantage  from 
the  foe,  the  subtlest  ruses  coming  into  play,  the  most 
impossible  contortions  of  the  body  undergone  ;  and  yet 
the  issue  was  as  far  from  decision  as  at  the  very  outset. 

With  clinched  teeth,  firmly-set  features,  and  heaving 
breasts,  the  two  young  fellows  tug  and  pull,  and  neither 
will  give  in.  Their  hands  arc  of  an  angry  red,  and  the 
veins  swollen  to  double  their  usual  size,  while  drops  of 
perspiration  on  their  foreheads  tell  of  their  superhuman 
exertions. 

Watching  the  face  of  the  one,  we  all  of  a  sudden  see 
a  look  of  agonizing  pain  shoot  across  it ;  his  hand  drops  ; 
the  struggle  is  at  an  end.  Poor  fijllcw,  his  finger  is 
maimed  for  life  ;  for  the  chief  muscle  has  been  rent  in 
the  fierce  struggle  for  supremacy.  His  antagonist,  by  a 
sudden  jerk,  —  one  of  the  numerous  stratagems  of  Fing- 
erhackeln,  —  had  succeeded  in  unbending  his  foe's  finger, 
though  he  did  it  at  the  cost  of  his  rival's  limb. 

One  very  frequently  sees  in  Tyrol  men  with  a  finger 
bent  nearly  double  on  the  right  hand.  If  you  ask  the 
cause,  you  will  be  invariably  told  that  it  happened  while 
"Fingerhackeln." 


THE  PARADISE  PLAY.  53 

In  this  instance  it  was  doubly  afflicting,  for  the  maimetl 
youth  was  one  of  the  chief  actors  in  the  grand  perform- 
ance of  the  morrow.  The  news  that  Hauser  Hansl  had 
his  finger  "aus  g'hackelt,"  spread  like  wildfire.  "Who 
was  to  take  his  place  at  so  short  a  notice  ?  and  could  he 
really  not  act?  Could  not  somebody  else  carry  the 
cross?"  were  some  of  the  numerous  questions  and  propo- 
sitions which  went  the  round. 

The  "Flerr  Vicar,"  who  was  enjoying  his  Saturday 
evening  game  of  cards  in  the  sacred  precincts  of  the 
"  Herrenstiibel,"  —  the  chamber  set  apart  for  the  use  of 
the  dignitaries  of  the  village,  such  as  the  priest,  the  doc- 
tor, the  schoolmaster,  and  the  owner  of  the  general  store, 
—  was  roused  into  unwonted  activity  by  the  news  of  this 
vexatious  accident ;  his  practical  sagacity,  however,  came 
to  his  aid,  and,  in  his  character  of  supreme  head  of  the 
Passion  Play,  he  ordered  that  Hansl  was  to  act  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  and  that  his  antagonist  was  to 
carry  the  heavy  cross  in  the  last  scene,  as  condign  pun- 
ishment for  his  misconduct.  This  decision,  coming  as  it 
did  from  the  mouth  of  the  Vicar,  was  unanimously  ap- 
plauded. Franzl,  the  delinquent,  did  not,  I  am  afraid, 
seem  overwhelmed  by  grief;  the  idea  of  appearing  on 
the  stage,  be  it  even  in  the  secondary  character  of  cross- 
bearer,  was  any  thing  but  unpleasant  to  him ;  in  fact,  it 
was  the  very  thing  he  desired,  though  brought  about  by 
an  accident  quite  against  his  will.  The  Vicar,  having 
spoken  the  weighty  words,  withdrew  to  his  "  Flerren- 
stubel,"  followed  by  his  fellow  card-players,  who  had 
crowded  into  the  bar-room  to  see  what  had  happened. 
Hansl,  though  suffering,  as  one  can  imagine,  great  pain, 
would  not  budge  from  the  table ;  and,  a  few  minutes 
later,  a  left-handed  shake  with  his  foe's  right  restored  tlie 
peace. 

Though  the  night  advances,  the  fun  and  noise  does 
not  subside  :  on  the  contrary,  it  is  on  the  increase,  if  any 
thing. 

Franzl,  the  constant  butt  of  his  friends'  jokes  at  his 
new  dignity  of  *'  cross-bearer,"  is  in  the  best  of  spirits, 


54       GADDINGS  WITH  A   rRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

and  shows  it  by  repeatedly  paying  for  drinks  all  round. 
Hansl,  whose  pain  has  been  allayed  by  a  poultice  of 
chamois-l?.rd,  and  tincture  of  arnica,  has  forgotten  his 
defeat  in  "  Fingerhackeln,"  and  joins  right  merrily  in  :he 
snatches  of  songs,  droll  stories,  and  jokes  made  at  his,  or 
at  his  elated  rival's,  expense. 

Presently  the  old  wooden  clock  right  over  the  table 
strikes  out,  in  the  faltering  and  slow  manner  peculiar  to 
this  kind  of  timekeeper,  the  hour  of  midnight.  The  host 
rises  from  the  table,  and,  walking  down  the  center  of  the 
room,  dofi's  his  velvet  skull-cap,  announcing  to  his  noisy 
guests  the  "  Polizeistunde  "  (police-hour),  after  which  no 
more  drink  is  furnished. 

Many  of  the  party  remonstrate  with  the  host,  and 
maintain  that  on  such  an  exceptional  night,  on  the  eve 
of  a  Passion  Play,  the  hour  should  be  extended  to  one 
o'clock ;  but  mine  host  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  their  eloquent 
appeals  ;  and  though  the  order  he  gives  to  the  Kellnerinen 
in  an  undertone,  while  pointing  with  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder  to  the  door  of  the  "  Herrenstubel,"  to  see  that 
the  Herr  Vicar's  bottle  was  kept  replenished,  is  not  in 
keeping  with  his  severity,  he  remains  firm,  and  our  noisy 
party  is  broken  up,  and  leaves  the  bar-room  among  gene- 
ral hilarity ;  each  member,  as  he  passes  out  of  the  room, 
dipping  his  fingers  into  the  receptacle  of  holy  water 
hanging  on  the  door-post,  and  wetting  his  forehead. 

We  will  wish  them  good-night,  and  a  God-speed  on 
their  distant  homeward  tramp,  and  join  in  their  hope  that 
the  morrow's  performance  will  not  only  be  the  success 
their  hearts  desire,  but  also  that  the  pious  and  righteous 
Passion  Play  will  duly  edify  the  hundreds  that  ftock  to 
that  singular  gathering. 


THE   CHAMOIS  AND    THE   CHAMOIS-STALKER.      55 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   CHAJVIOIS  AND  THE   CHAINIOIS-STALKER. 

\7'ERY  frequently  have  I  been  astonished  at  the  degree 
/  of  ignorance  displayed  by  the  traveling  public  re- 
specting the  chamois  and  its  habitat.  In  fact,  it  would 
seem  that  in  the  minds  of  most  people  this  animal  is 
associated  with  tales  of  miraculous  feats,  intermingled  with 
a  superabundance  of  romance  and  superstition. 

Let  us  endeavor  to  fathom  the  cause  of  this  odd 
anomaly,  —  an  animal  inhabiting  the  very  center  of  Europe, 
and  yet  enveloped  in  a  veil  of  mystery. 

The  extraordinary  powers  of  locomotion  with  which 
the  chamois  is  gifted,  and  the  elevated  nature  of  its 
home,  make  its  pursuit  by  man  a  difncult  and  dangerous 
task,  requiring  constant  training  from  childhood,  together 
with  courage,  an  iron  constitution,  and  a  clear  and  steady 
eye  and  hand.  These  qualities  a  chamois-stalker  must 
possess ;  and  very  naturally  it  is  just  these  that  remove 
chamois-stalking  in  its  genuine  sense  from  the  hands  of 
educated  and  scientific  men  to  those  of  the  hardy  native, 
who,  while  willing  to  undergo  the  necessary  fatigues  and 
privations,  has  the  muscles  and  heart  that  furnish  a 
"  Gamsjager." 

To  a  native  chamois-stalker  —  the  only  person,  as  I 
have  shown,  who  has  the  opportunity  of  watching  the 
movements  and  habits  of  that  animal  —  the  idea  of  watch- 
ing his  game  with  any  other  view  than  that  of  sport  would 
seem  supremely  ridiculous. 

Saussnre  and  the  late  Mr.  Boner  are  perhaps  the  only 


56       GADDTNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

two  persons  who  have  described  the  chamois  accurately 
and  from  their  own  experience.  The  Saiissure  of  the 
eighteenth  century  found  the  Swiss  peal:s  still  tenanted  by 
the  fleet  tribe  of  chamois,  while  Mr.  Boner  laid  the  scene 
of  his  observation  and  sport  in  the  somewhat  tame  scene- 
ry of  the  Bavarian  Highlands,  where  sport  is  made  easy 
by  large  preserves,  and  the  far  less  precipitous  and  dan- 
gerous nature  of  the  sporting  grounds. 

While  Svv'itzerland  has  been  eftectually  cleared  of  its 
former  tenants  by  the  invading  hosts  of  tourists  and  trav- 
elers, Tyrol  has,  by  dint  of  some  judicious  game-laws, 
managed  to  increase  its  stock  to  a  very  considerable 
extent. 

The  three  largest  preserves  in  the  country  —  viz.,  the 
one  near  the  Achensee,  belonging  to  the  Duke  of  Coburg ; 
the  one  situated  near  Kufstein,  the  property  of  Archduke 
Victor,  brother  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria ;  and  the  pre- 
serve occupying  the  extreme  end  of  the  Zillerthal,  owned 
by  Prince  Fiirstenberg  —  are  estimated  to  shelter  from 
2,500  to  3,000  head  of  chamois. 

Besides  these  private  preserves  there  are  innmnerable 
parochial  preserves  belonging  to  villages  and  hamlets, 
each  house-owner  having  the  right  to  shoot  over  a  district 
of  vast  proportions. 

The  villages  of  Brandenberg  and  Steinberg,  in  North 
T}Tol,  have,  for  instance,  the  shooting  over  not  less  than 
48,000  Joch  (about  So,ooo  acres)  of  the  very  best  shoot- 
ing ground  to  be  met  vvath  in  Europe,  excepting  perhaps 
some  of  the  Scotch  preserves,  that  cost  their  owners 
thousands  of  pounds,  while  here  the  concern  pays  each 
of  the  co-owners  according  to  his  annual  bag. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  of  my  readers  who  have  never 
seen  a  chamois,  I  may  give  the  following  abridged  descrip- 
tion of  the  animal. 

Somewhat  larger  than  a  roe-deer,  a  chamois  weighs 
when  full  grown  from  forty  to  seventy  pounds.  Its  color, 
in  summer  of  a  dusky  yellowish  brown,  changes  in  autumn 
to  a  much  darker  hue,  while  in  winter  it  is  all  but  black. 

The  hair  on  the  forehead  and  that  which  overhangs  the 


THE   CHAMOIS  AXD    THE   CHAMOIS-STALKER.      S7 

hoofs  remain  tawny  brown  throughout  the  year,  while  the 
hair  growing  along  the  backbone  is  in  winter  dark  brown 
and  of  prodigious  length ;  it  furnishes  the  much-prized 
"Gamsbart,"  literally  "beard  of  the  chamois,"  with  tufts 
of  which  the  hunters  love  to  adorn  their  hats. 

The  construction  of  the  animal  exhibits  a  wonderful 
blending  of  strength  and  agility.  The  power  of  its  mus- 
cles is  rivaled  by  the  extraordinary  faculty  of  balancing 
the  body,  of  instantly  finding,  as  it  were,  the  center  of 
gravity.  A  jump  of  20  or  even  25  feet  down  a  sheer 
precipice  on  to  a  small  pinnacle  of  rock,  the  point  of 
which  is  smaller  than  the  palm  of  a  man's  hand,  is  a  fact 
of  constant  recurrence  in  the  course  of  a  chamois'  flight. 

With  its  four  hoofs,  shaped  like  those  of  a  sheep,  but 
longer  and  more  pointed,  and  of  a  much  harder  sub- 
stance, converging  together,  it  will  occupy  this  position 
for  hours,  watching  any  particular  object  that  has  attracted 
its  notice. 

The  marvelously  keen  sight  and  scent  of  this  fleetest 
of  the  antelope  species  is  equally  a  matter  of  wonder.  A 
chamois,  frightened  by  some  unusual  sound  or  sight,  and 
dashing  down  the  precipitous  slopes  of  the  most  inacces- 
sible mountains,  will  suddenly  stop,  as  if  struck  by  light- 
ning, some  yards  from  the  spot  where  recent  human  foot- 
prints are  visible  in  the  snow,  or  Avhen,  by  a  sudden  veer- 
ing of  the  wind,  its  keen  scent  has  warned  it  of  the 
vicinity  of  a  human  being. 

It  is  obvious  that  the  chase  of  an  animal  gifted  with 
such  extraordinary  powers  of  locomotion  and  endurance, 
and  with  an  amazingly  keen  scent  detecting  danger  at  a 
great  distance,  requires  corresponding  faculties  on  the 
part  of  the  hunter. 

The  pov/er  of  undergoing  great  fatigue,  privations,  and 
cold,  a  steady  hand,  and  a  cool  clear  head  and  nerves, 
are  the  sine  qua  non  that  go  to  produce  a  chamois- 
stalker;  and  it  is  just  the  knowledge  and  consciousness 
of  possessing  these  qualities  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten 
furnish  the  mainspring  of  the  hunter's  passion. 

The  hunter  must  rely  entirely  upon  himself.     Neither 


58       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRLMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

man  nor  dog  can  be  of  service  to  liim ;  and  no  fear  of 
hunger,  cold,  and  the  yawning  abyss  at  his  side,  should 
make  him  waver  or  turn. 

When  following  his  game  high  up  in  the  grand  solitude 
of  the  sublime  giant  peaks,  he  is  lost  to  man  and  the  pur- 
suits and  passions  that  sway  other  men's  destinies.  He  is 
entirely  carried  away  by  the  excitement  of  the  sport ;  he 
crosses  fields  of  snow  without  thinking  of  the  chasms 
which  are  hidden  under  that  treacherous  cover ;  he 
plunges  into  the  most  inaccessible  recesses  of  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  he  climbs  and  jumps  from  crag  to  crag,  and 
creeps  along  narrow  bands  of  rock  overhanging  terrible 
precipices,  without  once  thinking  how  he  can  return. 
Night  finds  him  high  up,  seven  or  eight  thousand  feet, 
perhaps,  over  the  tiny  little  valley  that  contains  his  poor 
dwelling.  Alone,  without  fire,  without  light,  without  any 
sort  of  shelter,  he  has  to  pass  the  cold  night  close  to  gla- 
ciers and  vast  snowfields. 

The  chief  characteristics  of  a  chamois-hunter's  appear- 
ance might  be  comprised  in  the  following  short  delinea- 
tion :  a  gaunt  and  bony  figure,  brown  and  sinewy  knees, 
scarred  and  scratched,  hair  shaggy,  and  hunger  the  ex- 
pression of  the  face  ;  dark  piercing  eyes,  marked  eye- 
brows, a  bent  eagle  nose,  and  high  fleshless  cheek-bones. 

The  shirt  open  in  front  displays  the  breadth  of  the 
hairy  mahogany-hued  chest,  while  the  strong  and  bony 
but  fleshless  hands,  with  talon-like  fingers  constantly  bent, 
clutch  the  long  and  stout  alpenstock. 

The  chamois  and  its  chase  has  for  ever  been  a  rich 
mine  of  anecdote  and  myth.  The  elder  Pliny,  the  great 
Roman  naturalist,  gives  us  in  his  Natural  History  a  strik- 
ing proof  of  the  gross  superstition  which  attached  to  this 
animal  in  old  times.  Among  other  distinctive  peculiari- 
ties with  which  he  invests  the  chamois,  he  declares  that 
the  blood  of  the  chamois  possesses  great  healing  powers 
for  several  diseases,  such  as  consumption  and  low  fever ; 
but  for  one  ailment  in  particular  its  qualities  are  a  spe- 
cific, namely,  "  the  loss  of  one's  intestines,"  as  he  terms 
a  malady  which  we  must  hope,  for  humanity's  sake,  has 


THE   CHAMOIS  AXD    THE    CHAMOIS-STALKER.      59 

since  disappeared  from  the  long  list  of  mortal  sufferings. 
He  closes  his  remarkable  description  of  the  animal  with 
the  somewhat  mysterious  disclosure,  that  the  blood  of  the 
buck  used  in  a  certain  manner  softens  the  diamond  into 
a  sort  of  kneadable  paste.  "  This  latter  piece  of  impor- 
tant information,"  the  author  adds,  "has  rece.itly  been 
doubted  by  skeptics." 

One  can  not  but  be  amazed  that  such  absurdities  were 
devoutly  believed  for  many  centuries  ;  but  it  must  be  a 
source  of  even  greater  wonder  to  read  in  modern  descrip- 
tions of  the  chamois  whole  pages  of  nonsense  not  a  whit 
less  astonishing.  One  recent  author,  for  instance,  main- 
tains that  the  hunter  rarely  shoots,  but  drives  his  game 
into  places  from  which  further  retreat  is  impossible ;  he 
then  draws  his  knife,  and  "  puts  it  to  the  side  of  the 
chamois,  and  the  animal  of  its  own  accord  pushes  it  into 
its  body." 

The  recently-invented  trick  of  "  intelligent "  hotel- 
keepers  in  Switzerland,  of  placing  a  stuffed  chamois  on 
some  crag  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  over  the  hotel,  and 
then  pointing  it  out  to  unsuspicious  tourists,  can  not  throw 
much  light  on  the  chamois'  habitat,  however  pleasant  it 
must  be  to  sightseeing  cockneys  to  be  al)le  to  eat  their 
"  Gamsbraten  "  and  clrink  their  pint  of  sour  Swiss  wine 
under  the  very  nose  of  a  royal  chamois  buck. 

No  doubt  -such  a  make-believe  sight  tends  to  confirm 
the  innocent  tourist  in  his  conviction  that  he  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  glorious  snow  and  glacier-covered  Alpine 
peaks,  watching  the  sportive  chamois ;  and  we  well  may 
suppose  that  the  pros]')ect  of  astounding  willing  ears  on 
his  return  home  with  narratives  of  the  numerous  herds  of 
chamois  he  has  closely  watched,  gladdens  his  heart. 

Returning  to  Tyrol,  where  such  devices  are  as  yet  un- 
known, and  I  hope  will  remain  so  for  many  years  to  come, 
we  must  glance  once  more  at  the  chamois-stalker. 

His  motives,  even  if  he  is  a  poacher,  are  not  merce- 
nary. It  is  the  chase  itself  which  attracts  him,  and  not  the 
value  of  the  prey ;  it  is  the  excitement  and  the  very  dan- 
gers themselves,  which  render  the  chamois-hunter  indiffer- 


Co       CADDLVGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

ent  to  most  other  pursuits  and  pleasures.  The  glorious 
Alps,  the  grand  stern  solitude  reigning  around  him,  the 
gaunt  peaks,  and  not  least  the  exhilarating  influence  of 
the  clear,  bracing  air,  that  renders  motion  and  exertion  a 
pleasure,  instill  in  him  an  inordinate  love  for  the  solitary 
sport.  "  x\  chamois-stalker  who  would  exchange  his  life 
f'ji  that  of  a  king  is  not  a  genuine  chamois-hunter,"  I 
have  been  told,  not  by  one,  but  by  twenty  "  Gamsjager  ;  " 
and,  were  I  to  call  my  own  feelings  into  question,  I  must 
corroborate  this  sentiment. 

Before  giving  my  readers  any  instances  of  my  own 
experience  of  the  kingly  sport,  I  must  notice  an  interest- 
ing instance  where  a  woman,  urged  by  love,  shared  the 
perils  and  harclsliips  undergone  by  her  lover,  a  noted 
poacher,  and  exhibited  a  remarkable  spirit  of  fortitude 
under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 

Those  of  my  readers  who  have  ever  visited  the  in- 
teresting old  castle  "  Tratzberg,"  near  Jenbach,  on  the 
Kufstein-Innsbruck  line  of  rail,  will  no  doubt  have  been 
struck  by  the  very  remarkable  workmanship  of  divers 
groups  of  game  in  life-size,  carved  in  wood,  that  ornament 
the  hall  and  passages  of  the  castle. 

They  display  to  the  eye  of  a  connoisseur  great  skill  in 
their  life-like  imitation,  and  one  is  struck  with  the  accu- 
racy of  every  detail,  be  it  the  bend  of  a  noble  hart's  neck, 
or  the  graceful  attitude  of  a  rose-deer,  or  the  exact  color- 
ing of  the  chamois'  hair. 

The  man  who,  by  dint  of  his  rare  skill,  has  thus  por- 
trayed game  in  their  wild  state,  was  once  a  noted  poacher, 
and  now  has  risen  to  be  one  of  the  best  carvers  in  this 
part  of  the  country. 

The  circumstances  that  brought  about  the  transformation 
of  a  daring  poacher,  —  who,  it  is  said,  proved  himself  on 
more  than  one  occasion  a  relentless  foe  of  the  keepers,  — 
into  a  skillful  artist,  are  the  subject  of  my  brief  biography. 

Toni,  for  such  is  the  Christian  name  of  the  ex-poacher, 

is  a  native  of  the  village  E ,  in  the  Unter-Innthal ; 

and  the  surrounding  large  and  well-stocked  preserves  of 
a  certain  noble  duke  afforded  him,  in  his  character  of 


THE   CHAMOIS  AXD    THE   CHAMOIS-STALKER.      6 1 

poacher,  the  very  best  sport ;  but,  as  a  natural  conse- 
quence, he  ran  the  most  deadly  risk,  every  time  he  set 
out  on  his  expeditions,  of  never  returning  home.  A 
bullet,  he  well  knew,  was  pretty  sure  to  find  its  way  into 
his  body,  if  he  persisted  in  his  reckless  course. 

Fortunately  for  him,  "  the  course  of  true  love"  saved 
him  from  a  violent  death.  Prclty  IMoidl,  a  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  peasant  in  I'oni's  native  village,  had  been  for 
some  time  past  the  object  of  his  fondest  hopes  and  the 
subject  of  many  a  daring  "  Schnaddahiipller  "  sung  in  the 
Village  inn  on  festive  occasions. 

Marriage  between  the  poor  penniless  poacher  and  the 
daughter  of  the  rich  peasant  was,  of  course,  impossible  ; 
and  so  the  two  young  people  loved  and  sinneel  behind 
the  backs  of  the  parents. 

In  a  short  time  the  dire  results  of  the  free  and  easy 
love-making  a  hi  Tyrol  began  to  show.  The  girl,  terribly 
frightened  by  the  thought  of  her  parents'  wrath,  deter- 
mined to  elope  with  the  choice  of  her  heart. 

When  the  white  pall  of  snow  had  vanished  from  the 
adjacent  peaks  and  mountains,  and  the  balmy  May  sun 
was  enticing  the  more  venturesome  peasants  to  drive  their 
cattle  to  the  verdant  mountain  slopes,  Toni  and  his 
sweetheart  suddenly  disappeared,  one  fine  day,  from  their 
village. 

Nobody  knew  where  they  had  gone  ;  and  the  mystery 
grew  darker  v.'hen,  some  weeks  afterwards,  the  report  was 
spread  that  Toni  had  been  shot  in  an  affray  with  keepers. 

It  was  not  known  where,  and  by  whom  ;  and  the 
keepers,  of  course,  took  good  care  to  give  evasive  answers 
to  any  indiscreet  questions  on  the  subject  of  Toni's  fate. 

All  this  time  our  hero  and  his  fair  donna  were  inhabit- 
ing 3  disused  woodcutter's  hovel  high  up  on  the  moun- 
tains, in  a  tiny  and  excessively  wild  mountain  gorge, 
uninhabited  save  by  the  royal  hart  and  agile  roe-deer. 

For  their  sustenance  they  had  to  depend  entirely  upon 
the  rifle  of  Toni  :  milk,  bread,  flour,  or  any  other  of  life's 
most  necessary  commodities,  were  beyond  their  reach. 

One  night,  two  or  three  days  previous  to  Moidl's  con- 


62       GADDINGS  IVITH  A    PRIAIITIVE   PEOPLE. 

finement,  Toni  failed  to  return  from  his  daily  raid  in 
quest  of  game.  The  girl  was  in  a  sad  plight.  Too  weak 
to  regain  the  next  inhabited  valley,  some  eight  or  ten 
hours  off,  she  was  at  her  wit's  end,  and  beginning  to 
repent  her  bold  step. 

On  the  eve  of  the  second  day,  unfortunate  Toni  entered 
the  hut.  Bloodstained,  hardly  able  to  stand,  and  terribly 
weakened  by  the  effects  of  a  wound,  he  presented  a  sad 
spectacle  to  the  loving  eyes  of  his  devoted  girl.  It  seems 
that  Toni  had  been  tracked  by  the  keepers,  and,  while 
watching  the  approach  of  some  roe-deer,  he  received  a 
ball  right  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his  shoulder. 

Springing  up,  he  was  lucky  enough  to  escape  his  pur- 
suers ;  and,  in  his  dread  of  having  his  retreat  discovered, 
he  took  the  opposite  direction,  and  thus  foiled  the  sus- 
picions of  his  antagonists. 

Anxious  to  elude  his  foes,  who  he  feared  would  institute 
a  close  search  among  the  adjacent  peaks  and  passes,  he 
and  Moidl  left  the  miserable  hut  that  very  night. 

A  sort  of  cave,  distant  about  two  hours  from  their 
abode,  was  their  goal.  After  a  wearisome  and  perilous 
ascent  in  the  dark  night,  they  reached  their  new  hiding- 
]:)lace  just  as  dawn  was  breaking.  Both  had  exerted  their 
utmost  strength ;  he  v/eak  from  loss  of  blood  and  the 
eficcts  of  his  wound,  she  on  the  eve  of  her  confinement. 

The  next  day  Toni  set  out  in  quest  of  game,  and  on 
his  return  towards  evening  v/ith  a  chamois  on  his  back, 
he  found  poor  forsaken  Moidl  the  mother  of  a  babe. 
Being  without  means  of  lighting  a  fire,  he  could  not  even 
cook  the  meat,  and  for  the  first  day  Moidl  had  to  find 
the  necessary  sustenance  in  the  blood  of  the  chamois,  of 
which  she  drank  about  two  pints. 

The  next  morning  Toni  set  out  for  a  distant  Alp-hut, 
where  he  hoped  to  find  some  matches  and  some  cooking 
utensil  or  other.  He  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a 
box-full  of  the  former  and  an  iron  pot. 

The  third  day  Moidl  was  already  up  and  about,  and 
with  the  aid  of  some  w;iter  and  the  iron  pot  cooked  some 
broth  for  Toni  and  herself. 


THE   CI/AMO/S  AXD    THE    CHAMOIS-STALKER.      63 

The  child  born  in  such  primitive  and  original  quarters 
throve,  and  formed  a  fresh  link  between  the  two  faithful 
lovers. 

For  eight  weeks  these  poor  creatures  resided  in  the 
cave,  and  would  have  continued  very  probably  till  ap- 
proaching winter  obliged  them  to  descend,  had  not  an 
accident  occurred  to  poor  Toni. 

On  one  of  his  raids  he  crossed  the  imaginary  boundary 
line,  running  along  a  high  ridge  of  mountains,  which 
divides  Tyrol  from  Bavaria.  As  he  was  returning,  laden 
with  a  roebuck,  two  keepers  from  the  Bavarian  preserves 
and  two  keepers  from  t'le  T}Tolese  shooting  grounds  per- 
ceived him,  and  united  their  forces  in  order,  if  possible, 
to  catch  him  alive.  They  succeeded  only  too  well,  and 
poor  Toni  was  transported  the  following  day  to  the  next 
Ea\-arian  town,  some  thirty  or  thirty -five  miles  off.  There 
he  was  committed  for  trial ;  and  the  result  was  a  sen- 
tence which  condemned  him  to  a  comparatively  long 
term  of  imprisonment. 

Luckily  for  him  he  was  brought  to  one  of  the  model 
prisons  near  Munich,  where  he  was  taught  the  rudiments 
of  drawing  and  carving ;  and  when  he  left  the  peniten- 
tiary he  had  imbibed  a  strong  taste  for  carving  from 
nature.  After  several  years'  imprisonment  he  returned 
home  and  set  up  a  primitive  sort  of  workshop. 

Moidl,  on  the  contrary,  finding  that  Toni  did  not  re- 
turn from  his  shooting  expedition,  waited  for  a  few  days 
longer,  and  then  descended  to  civilized  valleys.  Afraid 
to  return  home  with  the  proof  of  her  guilt  in  her  arms,  she 
turned  her  back  on  Tyrol,  and  went  on  foot  to  Tegernsee, 
a  lake  in  Bavaria,  a  good  distance  off.  There  she  found 
kind  people  to  take  care  of  her  child,  and  to  her  great 
joy  she  learned  too  that  her  Toni  was  not  shot,  but  only 
imprisoned.  After  stopping  a  few  months  with  her  child, 
she  returned  to  her  native  village,  and  re-entered  her 
paternal  home  as  if  nothing  extraordinary  had  occurred. 
None  of  her  family,  and  none  of  the  natives  of  the 
village,  ever  learned  the  details  of  her  exploit,  and  very 
probably  they  never  will. 


64       GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

To   return   to   Toni's   career.     The   ov/ner   of  Castle 

Tratzberg,  Count  E ,  happened  to   see  one  of  the 

heads  of  a  chamois  turned  out  by  Toni,  and,  perceiving 
therein  the  undoubted  traces  of  great  skill,  sent  him,  at 
his  own  expense,  to  a  celebrated  Bavarian  school  for 
carving  in  wood  from  nature.  Here  Toni  staid  a  con- 
siderable period,  and  left  it  the  finished  artist  he  now  is. 

Now  to  instances  of  my  own  experience  of  the  noble 
sport  of  chamois-stalking. 

Delightful  old  Schvvaz,  a  quaint  village  dating  its  ex- 
istence back  to  the  early  Middle  Ages,  situated  on  the 
right-hand  bank  of  the  swift  Inn,  has  been  for  years  a 
favorite  starting-point  for  my  chamois-stalking  expedi- 
tions. 

Right  opposite  the  quaint  old-fashioned  houses  form- 
ing the  main  street,  and  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  val- 
ley, the  high  and  terribly  steep  "  Vompergebirg  "  rises  in 
one  unbroken  mass  up  to  nearly  9,000  feet  over  the  level 
of  the  sea. 

Far  in  among  the  oddly-shaped  pinnacles  which  rise 
to  even  a  greater  height  than  the  front  peaks,  which  are 
partly  visible  from  the  Inn  valley  itself,  there  is  a  deep 
and  narrow  glen,  and  snugly  ensconced  in  it  is  a  small 
log-hut,  surrounded  by  a  lovely  grove  of  beech-trees. 
Built  for  the  convenience  of  the  gamekeepers  of  the  vast 
surrounding  preserves,  who  have  to  be  constantly  on  the 
watch  lest  poachers,  reckless  of  the  terrible  risk  they 
run,  should  enter  them,  it  has  been  many  scores  of  times 
my  night-quarters. 

It  was  towards  the  end  of  October,  1 8  7-  that  a  six- 
hours'  walk  from  Schv^^az  brought  me  to  the  Zwerch- 
bachhiitte,  the  name  of  the  hut  I  have  just  described. 
My  kit  for  chamois-stalking  expeditions  is  of  a  some- 
what bulky  nature,  and  generally  a  weight  not  far  short 
of  eighteen  pounds  has  accumulated  by  the  time  a  big 
piece  of  bacon,  a  dozen  or  so  of  hard-boiled  eggs,  bread, 
tea,  and  sugar,  a  flask  of  Kirschwasser,  a  telescope,  and 
that  most  important  of  culinary  implements,  a  small  iron 
prn  with  a  hinged  handle,  have  been  packed  into  my 


THE   CHAMOIS  AND    THE   CHAMOIS-STALKER.      65 

'^  Rucksack."  ^  The  weight  lies  to  a  great  extent  against 
the  small  of  the  back. 

Having  left  Schwaz  at  daybreak,  I  had  reached  the  hut 
and  cooked  my  simple  repast  by  half-past  ten  o'clock.  I 
had  thus  ample  time  for  an  afternoon  stalk.  Leaving 
every  thing  save  ray  rifle,  alpenstock,  "  Steigeiscn " 
(crampons),  and  telescope,  at  the  hut  where  I  intended 
to  pass  that  night,  and  even  divesting  myself  of  my  hea\"y 
coat,  so  as  to  reach  the  heights  of  the  mountains  wiih  as 
little  loss  of  time  as  possible,  I  set  out  on  my  stalk. 

As  I  looked  up  from  the  hut  to  the  summit  of  the 
snow-clad  peaks,  it  seemed  impossible  that  human  foot 
could  gain  them  ;  and  yet,  to  have  any  chance  with  the 
chamois,  I  miust  be  on  the  top  of  an  immense  crag  some 
2,000  feet  above  my  head,  in  an  hour,  or  at  the  latest 
an  hour  and  a  half. 

By  a  few  minutes  after  three  I  had  gained  the  aforesaid 
point.  Night  would  fall  at  about  six  or  half-past,  and, 
counting  an  hour  to  get  down,  I  had  still  about  two  hours 
to  spare. 

Reconnoitering  with  my  telescope  the  rising  precipitous 
slopes  of  the  adjacent  peaks,  I  soon  discovered  a  herd  of 
nine  chamois,  amongst  which  I  perceived  a  patriarchal 
buck. 

As  the  wind  came  up  from  the  valley  —  a  matter  of 
high  importance,  on  account  of  the  amazingly  keen  scent 
of  the  game  —  I  had  to  decide  to  make  a  considerable 
round  in  order  to  weather  them.  After  an  hour's  hard 
scramble,  I  had  gained  the  same  altitude  as  that  of  the 
herd  in  view.  Had  the  ground  wliich  now  intervened 
between  me  and  the  game  been  a  little  less  unfavorable, 
every  thing  would  have  gone  well ;  but  the  only  means  of 
getting  within  range  of  the  wary  animals  was  by  creeping 
along  a  narrov*-  ledge  of  about  two  to  two  and  one-half 
feet  in  width,  that  ran  horizontally  across  the  face  of  an 
immense  wall  of  rock,  at  tlie  other  end  of  which  the 
chamois  were  browsing  on  the  stunted  "  Latschen  "  that 
grew  there. 

'  A  sack  of  strong  canv.-is  with  two  broad  leather  straps,  through  wliich  the 
arms  arc  looped. 


66       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

The  ledge  was  not  more  than  400  or  500  yards  long, 
but  I  was  obliged  to  proceed  very  slowly  and  carefully, 
for  fear  of  betraying  myself  by  knocking  any  of  the  small 
stones  which  littered  the  ledge  down  the  precipice  — 
some  two  or  three  hundred  feet  in  height  —  which  yawned 
at  my  side. 

At  last,  after  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half's  hard  work, 
I  managed  to  reach  the  end  of  the  ledge,  and,  picking 
out  my  buck  at  about  160  yards,  I  fired. 

Intently  watching  the  effect  of  my  shot,  I  saw  the 
chamois  rise  on  his  hind-legs  and  fall  over  backwards,  a 
sure  sign  that  he  was  mortally  wounded. 

The  charm  and  excitement  which  the  successful  hunter 
experiences  in  moments  like  this  are  not  easily  described. 
Certain  it  is  that  few  other  pleasures  that  life  can  offer  are 
preferable  to  them. 

Reloading  my  rifle,  I  hastened  up  to  the  spot,  but 
found  the  buck  had  vanished.  The  color  of  the  blood 
which  lay  in  a  pool  on  the  rock  convinced  me,  however, 
that  the  game  was  hit  hard,  and  could  not  be  very  far 
off. 

Not  till  now,  when  it  was  too  late,  did  the  imprudence 
of  proceeding  so  far  by  the  waning  daylight  strike  me. 
What  should  I  do  ?  Pursue  the  wounded  buck,  or  try  to 
return  to  the  hut  ?  A  few  moments'  consideration  showed 
me  that,  long  before  I  could  reach  the  really  dangerous 
places  in  the  descent,  night  would  have  fallen.  In  full 
daylight  it  required  a  very  steady  head  and  an  extremely 
sure  foot,  as  in  most  parts  it  was  certain  death  to  place  one's 
foot  an  inch  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  of  the  jagged  stones 
projecting  from  the  rock,  by  the  aid  of  which  the  ascent 
or  descent  could  be  accomplished.  Thus  I  had  to  choose 
the  more  prudent  course  of  patiently  enduring  the  pun- 
ishment of  my  rashness,  which  in  this  instance  consisted 
in  camping  out. 

Had  I  been  provided  with  the  necessaries  for  so  doing, 
I  should  not  have  had  any  reason  to  dread  the  approach- 
ing night ;  but  without  a  coat  on  my  back,  without  blanket 
or  any  thing  to  co\er  me,  and  without  a  particle  of  food, 


THE   CHAMOIS  AND    THE   CHAMOIS-STALKER.      67 

the  case  was  very  different ;  and  I  entertained  some  un- 
pleasant notions  of  the  coming  eleven  or  twelve  hours. 

Leaving  the  buck  to  his  fate,  I  set  about  looking  for  a 
suitable  nook  or  crevice  which  might  ofler  some  slight 
shelter.  The  waning  daylight  enabled  me  to  find  such  a 
retreat  in  the  shape  of  a  small  cave-like  recess,  which 
looked  any  thing  but  inviting. 

The  vast  snowfields  in  close  proximity,  the  icy-cold 
wind  driving  straight  down  from  them,  and  an  atmosphere 
considerably  below  freezing-point,  did  not  add  to  my 
comfort.  The  only  consolation  left  to  me  was  my  pipe, 
and  before  morning  broke  it  had  been  filled  and  emptied 
many  a  time.  At  last  the  rosy  tinge  of  the  heavens,  now 
unclouded  by  snow,  which  had  begun  to  fall  about  mid- 
night, assured  me  that  my  sufferings  were  coming  to  an 
end  ;  and  never  in  my  life  do  I  remember  greeting  light 
with  such  feelings  of  gratitude  as  on  that  morning.  My 
flannel  shirt,  saturated  by  perspiration  the  evening  before, 
was  frozen,  and  formed  an  icy  coat  of  mail  for  my  shiv- 
ering body  inside  it. 

Fortunately  the  snow  lay  very  thin,  so  that  it  was  easy  to 
follow  the  gory  tracks  of  the  wounded  buck.  Half  an 
hour's  invigorating  climb  brought  me  to  the  place  where 
the  animal  had  evidently  passed  the  night ;  large  pools  of 
partly  fresh  and  partly  congealed  blood  marked  the  spot. 

I  had  not  proceeded  more  than  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  farther  up  a  narrow  gorge  when  a  shrill  "  phew  "  — 
the  chamois'  whistle  of  alarm  —  brought  my  rifle  to  my 
shoulder,  and  levelled  at  the  buck,  standing  on  a  crag 
projecting  from  the  otherwise  smooth  surface  of  an  im- 
mense precipice.  The  next  instant  my  shot  awoke  the 
slumbering  echoes  of  the  ravine,  and  the  buck  came 
tumbling  down  the  declivity,  this  time  not  to  get  up 
again. 

On  reaching  the  animal  I  found  that  my  first  ball  had 
pierced  its  lungs.  It  seems  hardly  credible  that  an  ani- 
mal mortally  wounded  could  continue  its  flight  up  the 
most  dangerous  passes  and  over  cliasm-parted  crags,  and 
that  its  steel  muscles  could  carry  it  on  and  on  after  losing 


68       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

such  quantities  of  blood.  But  so  it  is,  a  wonder  to  those 
who  know  the  miraculous  vitality  and  tenacity  of  life 
which  characterizes  this  magnificent  little  mountain  ante- 
lope. 

Brittling  the  game,  —  that  is,  removing  the  intestines, 
and  filling  the  cavity  thus  formed  with  twigs  of  a  neigh- 
boring "  Latschen  "  bush,  —  I  managed  to  fasten  the  buck, 
with  the  aid  of  my  leather  belt,  to  my  back,  and  turned 
my  steps  homeward.  I  doubt  very  much  if  I  could  have 
reached  the  hut,  had  I  not  had  my  trusty  crampons  on  my 
feet. 

The  thin  coat  of  snow  covering  the  rocks  made  the 
descent  of  a  doubly  dangerous  nature  ;  added  to  which 
I  had  a  fifty-pound  weight  on  my  back,  and  naturally 
felt  somewhat  faint  for  v/ant  of  food.  In  one  place  I  was 
fairly  compelled  to  divest  myself  of  crampons,  shoes,  and 
socks,  and  pick  my  faltering  steps  barefooted  over  the 
projecting  crags  on  the  face  of  a  perpendicular  wall  of 
rock,  at  the  foot  of  which,  some  2,000  feet  below  me,  lay 
the  hut,  inviting  one  gigantic  leap  which  would  land  me 
at  its  very  threshold.  At  last,  after  one  or  two  somewhat 
narrow  escapes,  I  reached  my  asylum,  and  right  glad  I 
was  that  this  descent,  one  of  the  most  perilous  I  ever 
remember,  had  ended  so  satisfactorily. 

By  the  time  a  hearty  meal  and  a  few  hours'  sleep  on 
the  soft  and  fragrant  Alpine  heather  had  restored  my 
vigor,  the  afternoon  had  passed,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
a  bright  full  moon,  which  promised  to  light  me  home,  I 
should  have  remained  that  night  in  the  hut. 

Soon  after  sunset  the  full  disk  of  the  moon  rose  over  a 
gap  in  the  otherwise  unbroken  ridge  flanking  the  gorge 
in  which  I  was  now  walking  homewards. 

The  huge  gaunt  forms  of  the  peaks  and  crags,  in  many 
parts  in  deep  mysterious  shade,  contrasted  most  charm- 
higly  with  the  glittering  snowfields  and  aehy-white  peaks 
illuminated  by  the  rays  of  a  full  moon.  Now  passing  a 
cataract  of  white  foaming  water,  glittering  and  gleaming 
as  the  moonbeams  touched  each  distinct  drop,  then  again 
traversing  dense  gloomy  pine-forests,  the  tops  of  the  trees 


THE    CHAMOIS  AND    THE   CHAMOIS-STALKER.      69 

tinged  with  silvery  liglit,  the  rest  dark  and  somber ;  now 
fording  a  turbulent  rivulet,  rushing  down  the  declivity  in 
headlong  haste,  then  again  crossing  peaceful  stretches  of 
Alpine  meadow-land  dotted  here  and  there  with  clumps 
of  patriarchal  pine-trees,  my  walk  proved  a  dehghtful 
close  to  my  expedition. 

The  reader,  however,  must  not  infer  from  this  narrative 
that  the  lonely  chamois-stalker  always  meets  with  success 
at  a  cost  of  so  little  time  and  trouble  as  I  experienced  in 
this  instance. 

Droves  of  nine  head  of  chamois  are  not  to  be  met 
vnth  in  all  parts  of  Tyrol,  and  often  and  often  has  it  been 
my  fate  to  be  high  up  in  the  barren,  terribly  grand  re- 
cesses of  the  Tyrolese  Alps  for  days,  and  hardly  see  a 
chamois ;  or,  at  other  times,  an  unsteady  hand  at  the 
moment  of  firing  has  obliged  me  to  traverse  glaciers, 
snowfields,  and  passes,  to  seek  a  distant  glen  or  peak 
where  the  chamois  had  not  been  alarmed  by  the  echoes 
of  my  shot. 

Frequently  two  days  elapse  from  the  time  of  leaving 
the  valley  before  a  buck  has  been  sighted  and  the  line  of 
attack  resolved  upon ;  and  then  often,  when  after  end- 
less fatigue  and  danger  the  game  has  been  nearly  brought 
within  range,  the  wind  may  suddenly  veer,  and  a  second 
later  a  shrill "  phew  "  of  the  alarmed  chamois  tells  3'ou  that 
the  fine  scent  of  your  prey  has  frustrated  all  your  designs. 

On  one  occasion,  I  remember,  while  hunting  in  the 
rugged  "  Kaisergebirg,"  I  had  approached  a  drove  of  six 
or  seven  chamois  to  within  shooting  distance,  when  the 
sight  of  a  "Steinadler"  or  golden  eagle,  which,  circling 
right  over  my  head,  was  allured  probably  by  my  motion- 
less position  ventre  d,  terre  for  more  than  an  hour,  sent 
my  game  away  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and  long  before 
I  had  time  to  venture  a  long  shot  at  the  wary  old  buc:k 
who  was  keeping  guard  farthest  off  from  me,  and  for 
whose  approach  I  had  been  patiently  waiting. 

Another  time,  on  the  same  mountains,  I  was  imprisoned 
for  two  nights  and  one  day  on  a  pinnacle  of  rock  by  the 
accidental  slipping  of  the  rope  which  had  enabled  me  to 


yo      GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

gain  the  eminence.  The  jump,  or  rather  the  drop,  that 
eventually  set  me  free,  was  not  much  of  a  jump  in  any 
ordinary  place,  but  here  it  was  a  very  serious  affair  indeed. 
I  had  thrown  the  ill-fated  rope,  provided  with  a  running 
noose,  so  as  to  catch  any  projecting  particle  of  the  rock, 
from  a  band  of  rock  not  more  than  twenty-eight  or  thirty 
inches  broad,  running  horizontally  across  the  face  of  a 
stupendous  precipice  four  or  five  church-steeples  high. 
Now  that  the  rope  was  gone,  I  had  to  jump  the  height,  up 
which  I  had  hauled  myself  by  means  of  the  rope.  The 
distance  intervening  between  the  band  of  rock  and  the 
point  I  was  standing  on  was  less  than  twelve  feet  in 
height ;  and  deducting  seven  or  eight  feet  which  I  could 
cover  by  lowering  myself  and  holding  to  the  top  by  my 
hands,  the  actual  drop,  measured  from  the  soles  of  my 
feet  to  the  base  of  the  miniature  precipice  where  the 
narrow  ledge  projected,  was  about  four  or  five  feet. 
Nothing  !  if  you  have  level  ground  to  drop  upon,  and  no 
yawning  abyss  at  the  side ;  but  here  there  were  nine 
chances  to  ten  that  the  drop  would  end  badly. 

It  was  only  when  the  pangs  of  hunger  on  the  morning 
of  the  second  day,  and  the  certainty  of  a  lingering  death 
by  starvation,  rendered  me  reckless  of  the  terrible  risk, 
and  a  sudden  death  seemed  preferable  to  tortures  slow 
and  lingering,  that  at  last  I  resolved  to  chance  the  drop. 

Fate  favored  me,  and  I  alighted  erect  and  firm  on  the 
narrow  strip  of  rock  that  separated  me  from  death.  I 
had  taken  off  my  shoes  and  socks,  so  as  to  prevent  my 
slipping  on  reaching  the  ledge,  at  that  part,  if  any  thing, 
shelving  downwards.  The  slightest  tremor  of  my  knees, 
or  the  most  minute  giving-way  of  my  joints  on  alighting, 
would  have  resulted  in  the  loss  of  my  balance  ;  and  as 
there  was  nothing  to  afford  me  the  slightest  hold  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  the  rock,  I  should  have  been  pitched 
head  foremost  down  the  abyss.  My  feet  were  badly  cut 
on  the  sharp  stones  on  which  I  alighted,  and  for  weeks 
my  little  adventure  was  recalled  to  my  mind  in  an  un- 
pleasant manner :  I  ought  not,  however,  to  complain  of 
this  insignificant  injury,  considering  I  liad  a  somewhat 
remarkable  escape. 


THE   CHAMOIS  AND    THE   CHAMOIS -STALKER.      71 

To  show  my  reader  that  much  time  and  exertion  is  ex- 
pended, and  severe  privations  are  vainly  endured,  by 
hunters  while  pursuing  chamois  in  thinly-stocked  neigh- 
borhoods, I  may  mention  that  in  one  season  I  made  the 
two  expeditions  I  have  just  referred  to,  besides  a  third  into 
the  same  range  of  mountains,  and  in  all  these  I  did  not 
fire  one  shot. 

At  other  times,  when  the  chamois  are  driven  at  battues 
in  the  carefully-guarded  preserves  of  either  of  th.e  three 
noble  owners  above  mentioned,  a  fairly  good  rifle-shot, 
posted  on  an  advantageous  point,  can  knock  over  from 
five  to  six  chamois  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours. 

In  my  humble  opinion,  and  in  that  of  every  sportsman 
who  has  once  successfully  "  stalked  "  a  chamois,  the  driv- 
ing of  chamois  deprives  the  sport  of  those  highly  attractive 
features,  which,  beyond  perhaps  any  other  sport  in  the 
world,  act  as  an  ever-new,  all-engrossing  excitement  on 
the  mind  of  the  man  who  has  once  tasted  its  pleasures. 

It  would  seem  to  me  that  the  wholesale  slaughter  of 
an  animal  that  Nature  herself  has  placed  in  the  most  sub- 
lime recesses  of  her  creation,  and  endowed  with  such 
noble  qualities  and  wonderful  organization,  is  a  proceed- 
ing which  a  true  sportsman  ought  not  to  countenance. 

In  the  preceding  pages  I  have  endeavored  to  give  my 
readers  an  insight  into  the  character  of  the  chamois- 
stalker,  as  well  as  to  show  the  nature  of  the  sport  itself. 

Manifold  dangers  and  adventures  of  more  or  less  peril, 
together  with  the  hardships  natural  to  the  craft,  are  the 
fate  of  the  chamois-stalker,  till  perhaps  some  day  or  other 
he  fails  to  return  to  his  chalet,  to  his  wife,  and  to  his  little 
ones.  A  bullet  from  the  rifle  of  a  hostile  keeper,  or  a 
treacherous  bough  or  a  loose  stone  or  a  f:Use  step  pitches 
him  to  the  foot  of  a  precipice  hundreds  of  feet  in  height; 
and  years  afterwards,  perhaps,  his  bones  are  found,  picked 
clean  by  the  mighty  eagle  or  by  the  wild  animals  of  the 
Alps.  A  grand  and  silent  grave,  marked  by  a  mighty 
tombstone  set  by  his  Creator  himself,  is  only  too  often 
the  last  resting  place  of  a  chamois-stalker. 


72       GADDJNGS  WITH  A   PRJMrnVE   PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  TYROLESE  POACHERS. 

AFOUR.-MONTHS'  tour  in  quest  of  sport  brought 
me,  in  the  autumn  of  1867,  to  L ,  a  small  and 

entirely  isolated  Alpine  village  in  the  Bavarian  Highlands, 
close  to  the  Tyrolese  frontier. 

I  do  not  know  v/hether  it  was  the  result  of  a  heavy 
day's  work,  wading,  rod  in  hand,  in  the  icy-cold  waters 
of  "  Isar,"  or  the  knowledge  that  a  certain  fresh  barrel 
of  Munich  beer  was  to  be  tapped,  —  an  event  of  no  mean 
importance  in  the  modest  inn  of  the  village,  —  which  in- 
duced me,  when  night  put  a  stop  to  my  fishing,  to  seek  a 
cozy  retreat  in  the  bar-room  of  the  village  Wirthshaus. 

Hardly  was  I  seated  in  my  snug  corner,  right  below 
the  execrably-daubed  crucifix  adorning,  as  is  the  custom 
in  the  Tyrolese  and  Bavarian  Highlands,  the  corner  of 
every  bar-room,  when  in  rushed,  in  an  evident  state  of 
excitement,  the  "Herr  Oberforster,"  head-forester  of  the 
surrounding  royal  game-preserves. 

My  query  as  to  the  cause  of  his  unusual  emotion  was 
speedily  answered. 

One  of  his  numerous  under-keepers  had  at  that  very 
moment  brought  him  the  nevv^s  that  four  "  Wilddiebe,"  or 
poachers,  had  been  seen  high  up  on  the  mountains  by 
two  keepers,  one  of  v.'hom  had  come  down  in  hot  haste 
to  seek  re-enforcements  in  order  to  capture  the  intruders. 

Unquestionably,  the  head-keeper  continued,  these 
poachers  were  the  very  same  four  Tyrolese  scoundrels  who 
the  year  before  had  shot  two  of  the  Bavarian  keepers, 


ENCOUNTER  WITH  TYROLESE  POACHERS.      73 

and,  hardly  three  months  previous!)',  severely  wounded 
three  others  who  had  endeavored  to  take  them  prisoners. 

This  was  welcome  news  to  my  friend  the  Herr  Ober- 
fbrster,  v/ho  had  on  several  occasions  vowed  the  destruc- 
tion of  that  fearless  and  daring  quartet  of  Tyrolese,  who 
in  less  than  a  year  had  killed  or  maimed  no  less  than  fi\'e 
of  his  subordinates. 

All  the  keepers  who  at  that  precise  moment  were  not 
out  among  the  mountains  were  ordered  to  assemble  ; 
and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  six  men,  eager  to  avenge 
their  comrades'  fate,  were  collected  in  the  head-keeper's 
cottage,  whither  I  had  accompanied  him. 

The  evident  fact  that  adventure  of  no  ordinary  charac- 
ter would  in  all  probability  attend  this  exploit,  naturally 
made  me  eager  to  witness  the  strife.  After  some  trouble, 
I  succeeded  in  persuading  the  head-keeper  to  allovv^  my 
accompanying  the  party,  of  course,  only  as  a  mere 
looker-on. 

To  act  as  combatant  on  this  occasion  lay  far  from  my 
intentions,  as,  strange  to  say,  my  sympathies  were  on  the 
side  of  the  Tyrolese,  though,  as  I  have  related,  a  twofold 
manslaughter  was  laid  to  their  door. 

The  deadly  feud  and  animosity  existing  between  the 
Tyrolese  and  Bavarian  Highlanders  since  the  time  of  the 
French  wars  in  the  beginning  of  the  present  century  has 
by  no  means  died  out,  but  flares  up  on  frequent  occa- 
sions. 

The  Bavarian  preserves,  well  stocked  with  game,  but 
rigorously  guarded  by  small  corps  of  gamekeepers,  aided 
by  the  rural  policemen  or  gendarmes,  are  looked  upon 
by  the  TyTolese  living  close  to  the  fi-onticr  as  their  legiti- 
mate sporting  ground ;  and  it  is  just  on  these  occasions, 
when  hostile  parties  meet,  that  the  deadly  animosity  of 
the  Tyrolese  poacher  to  the  Bavarian  keeper,  and  vice 
versd,  leads  to  murder  and  manslaughter. 

To  these  two  circumstances,  and  to  the  fact  that  the 
Tyrolese,  inhabiting  mountain  recesses,  have  an  innate 
love  of  wild  sport,  we  must  attribute  the  frequent  encoun- 
ters resulting  in  the  death  either  of  the  keeper  or  the 
poacher. 


74       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITI]'E  PEOPLE. 

They  are  by  no  means  moved  to  this  dangerous  game 
by  any  motive  of  gain,  but  simply  by  that  love  of  free 
nature  and  the  excitement  of  the  perilous  chase,  v/hich 
He  who  created  the  chamois  and  He  who  piled  the 
mountains  and  glaciers  upon  each  other  has  placed  in 
their  hearts,  like  the  apple-tree  in  the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Thus  it  frequently  happens  that  a  young  fellow,  not 
content  with  the  sport  which  his  own  mountains  afford, 
leaves  his  home,  an  isolated  chalet  on  the  Tyrolese- 
Bavarian  frontier,  crosses  the  mountains,  and,  entering 
the  forbidden  land,  fails,  one  day,  to  return  to  his  home. 
A  deadly  shot  from  behind  some  ambush,  a  cry  of 
anguish,  and  the  poor  fellow  has  paid  the  penalty  of 
death  for  a  crime  which,  even  were  it  to  come  before  a 
court  of  justice,  would  be  punished  with  but  six  or  nine 
months'  imprisonment. 

The  body  of  the  unhappy  poacher,  if  it  has  not  fallen 
down  the  yawning  abyss  at  the  side  of  which  he  was 
walking,  unconscious  of  danger,  is  pushed  down  into  its 
deep  and  silent  grave  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  the  slayer, 
the  gamekeeper,  who,  not  caring  to  risk  life  and  limb  in 
a  struggle  with  his  foe,  removes  him  from  the  face  of 
God's  earth  by  a  cowardly  shot. 

Of  late  years  this  feeling  of  mortal  enmity  has  some- 
what abated ;  but  at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  some 
seven  or  eight  years  ago,  inquiries  respecting  the  mys- 
terious disappearance  of  a  young  Tyrolese  from  his  native 
village  or  solitary  chalet-home  were  invariably  met  by  a 
shrug  of  tlie  shoulders  and,  "  Shot  by  the  Bavarians." 

But  to  return  to  my  narrative. 

Our  party,  consisting  of  the  head-keeper  and  six  of  his 
men  and  myself,  were,  after  making  some  necessary 
preparations,  ready  to  start. 

With  some  bread,  bacon,  and  a  flask  of  "  Kirschwasser  " 
in  my  bag,  and  with  my  revolver,  in  case  of  emergency, 
in  my  pocket,  I  joined  the  rest,  who  had  already  left  the 
head-keeper's  habitation. 

The  man  who  had  brought  the  alarm  led  the  way,  then 
followed  the  Oberforster  and  his  other  men,  and  1  brought 
up  the  rear. 


ENCOUNTER  WITH   TV  ROLES  E  POACHERS.      75 

The  night  beuig  pitch  dark,  and  our  way  lying  up  some 
very  awkward  ledges  and  along  some  deep  precipices, 
our  progress  was  naturally  slow;  and  the  rain,  which 
soon  after  our  departure  came  on,  did  not  sen^e  to  raise 
our  spirits.  Walking,  and  in  many  places  creeping  along 
on  our  hands  and  knees,  we  spent  the  best  part  of  that 
night  before  we  reached  the  spot  where  the  two  keeper.; 
had  parted,  one  to  give  the  alarm,  the  other  to  continue 
his  watch  on  the  movements  of  the  poachers. 

We  were  astonished  to  find  no  one  there,  and  our 
undertone  calls  for  "Johann"  —  the  keeper — remained 
unanswered. 

All  of  a  sudden,  our  whispered  consultation  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  low  stifled  groan,  uttered  apparently  by  a 
human  being  close  by. 

Fearing  that  this  was  part  of  a  subde  stratagem  of  the 
poachers,  who,  we  were  now  convinced,  had  discovered 
Johann,  and  intended  by  their  groans  to  entice  us  to 
approach  their  ambush,  we  remained  quite  quiet  for  the 
ne.xt  hour,  till  day  began  to  break. 

What  dawn  disclosed  to  our  eyes,  the  reader  will  be 
astonished  to  learn. 

Not  thirty  paces  from  the  spot  where  we  lay  was  poor 
Johann,  divested  of  his  coat,  and  securely  pinioned  to  a 
pine-tree.  With  his  mouth  gagged,  his  face  besmeared 
with  blood,  his  rifle,  broken  at  the  stock,  at  his  feet,  he 
presented  a  sorry  spectacle. 

To  cut  him  loose,  force  some  spirits  down  his  tliroat, 
and  bind  up  his  bleeding  wounds,  was  the  work  of  a  few 
minutes.  When  sufiflciently  recovered  to  speak,  he  told 
us  that  while  he  was  at  his  post  his  gun  had  slipped  from 
his  hand,  and,  striking  a  rock,  the  charge  had  exploded. 

The  poachers,  then  not  more  than  400  yards  off,  just 
across  a  narrow  but  deep  gully,  at  first  imagined  the  shot 
was  intended  for  them ;  but,  seeing  nobody,  they  cau- 
tiously approached,  rifle  in  hand,  the  spot  where  poor 
Johann  had  hid  himself  under  some  brushwood,  afraid  to 
move. 

Searching  the  place,  they  soon  discovered  him,  and, 


76       GADDIA'GS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

threatening  him  with  immediate  death,  they  pinioned  the 
poor  fellow  to  the  next  tree. 

His  life  hung  upon  a  thread  during  the  next  five  min- 
utes, while  the  Tyrolese  were  deciding  the  fate  of  their 
prisoner. 

The  defenseless  man  must  have  moved  their  pity,  for 
they  took  their  departure  soon  afterwards,  after  inflicting 
with  their  iron-shod  Alpenstdcke  some  painful  prods  on 
their  hapless  victim. 

Had  their  prisoner  been  one  of  those  keepers  whom 
they  suspected  of  picking  off  any  of  their  comrades,  a 
murder  would  have  undoubtedly  preceded  their  departure. 

Watching  his  foes'  movements  as  long  as  the  waning 
daylight  had  allowed,  he  was  convinced,  by  the  direc"^ 
tion  the  four  men  had  taken,  that  they  were  encamped 
for  the  night  in  an  Alp-hut  not  more  than  half  an  hour's 
climb  distant,  wholly  unconscious  of  the  fact  that  they 
had  been  seen  by  a  second  man,  who  had  in  a  compara- 
tively short  time  brought  overwhelming  odds  against 
them. 

As  it  was  the  month  of  October,  and  the  Alp-hut,  sit- 
uated high  up  on  the  mountain,  was  occupied  only  dur- 
ing the  three  summer  months,  we  were  convinced  that 
the  hut  was  untenanted,  thus  affording  a  welcome  night's 
shelter  to  the  poachers. 

It  was  now,  naturally,  a  matter  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance to  surprise  the  men  v/hile  yet  in  the  hut,  and  though, 
as  Johann  informed  us,  three  of  them  had  each  a  chamois 
on  his  back,  they  would  not  in  all  probability  leave  the 
hut  for  their  return  homeward  before  seven  or  eight 
o'clock. 

Giving  the  necessary  instructions  to  his  seven  men, — 
Johann  was  sufificiendy  recovered  to  join  the  party,  — the 
Oberfdrster  and  his  little  army  made  for  the  hut  as  fast 
as  they  could,  while  I  was  to  gain,  by  a  somewhat  cir- 
cuitous route,  a  little  eminence  right  over  the  hut,  whence 
I  might  overlook  the  whole  scene  of  the  coming  combat 
without  incurring  any  risk. 

Half  an  hour's  scramble  brought  me  to  the  height,  and 


ENCOUNTER  WITH  TYKOLESE  POACHERS.      77 

on  looking  do\vn  tlie  \\Teath  of  smoke  curling  up  from 
the  opening  in  the  roof  of  the  hut  intimated  that  the 
poachers  were  still  within,  probably  cooking  their  break- 
fast before  starting  on  their  perilous  return  over  the 
frontier  —  in  this  instance  an  imaginary  line  running 
along  the  heights  of  the  snow-covered  ridge  of  moun- 
tains rising  in  one  sublime  wall  from  the  plateau  on 
which  the  Alp-hut  stood. 

My  post  enabled  me  to  see  every  movement  of  the 
eight  men  as  they  cautiously  approached  the  hut,  hardly 
400  yards  below  me. 

When  about  150  yards  from  the  chalet  they  divided,  it 
beinsf  the  intention  of  their  leader  to  station  one  man  at 
each  corner  of  the  hut  while  the  remaining  four  keepers 
were  to  advance  to  the  closed  door. 

They  had  hardly  walked  a  few  paces,  when  a  thunder- 
ing "  ilalt !  or  we  shoot,"  from  the  poachers  within  the 
hut,  brought  the  advancing  force  to  a  sudden  standstill ; 
and,  throwing  themselves  flat  down,  they  instinctively 
sought  shelter  behind  some  trees  and  rocks  which  were 
lying  around. 

Caged  undoubtedly  the  poachers  were,  but  by  no 
means  caught. 

To  dislodge  four  resolute,  well-armed  men,  dead  shots, 
from  a  bullet-proof  log-hut  standing  in  the  center  of  a 
fiat  piece  of  ground,  is  by  no  means  an  easy  undertaking. 
The  Oberfdrster,  convinced  against  his  will  of  the  impos- 
sibility of  bring  about  a  favorable  result  by  force  imaided 
by  subtle  stratagem,  withdrew  his  men  to  a  safer  place, 
whence  the  liut  could  be  watched  witliout  being  in  immi- 
nent danger  from  the  enemy's  rifles. 

At  the  trial  of  the  poachers,  who  subsequently  were 
made  prisoners,  it  appeared  that  the  silent  man,  attired  in 
the  garb  of  a  cowherd,  who  was  sitting  in  the  dark  corner 
of  the  bar-room  the  previous  evening  while  the  Ober- 
forster  related  the  news  of  the  poachers  having  been  seen, 
had  acted  as  informant. 

This  man  turned  out  to  be  a  native  of  the  next  Tyrol- 
esc  village,  and,  without  being  in  the  least  connected  with 


78       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

the  poachers,  he  had,  from  mere  spite  to  the  hated  Bava- 
rians, warned  his  countrymen  of  the  approaching  surprise  ; 
too  late,  however,  to  enable  them  or  him  to  escape  to 
their  own  side  of  the  adjacent  peaks. 

This  of  course  explained  the  whole  thing.  As  I  was 
convinced  that  the  head-keeper  would  postpone  until 
night  all  attempts  on  the  hut,  I  decided  to  leave  my  post, 
and  by  a  roundabout  route  join  the  small  but  valiant  army 
encamped  barely  600  yards  from  the  object  of  their  con- 
tinued watching. 

On  reaching  them,  I  found  that  one  of  the  keepers  had 

been  despatched  back  to  L ,  and  on  my  inquiring  the 

reason  of  such  an  arrangement  at  a  time  when  every  man 
was  needed,  I  was  informed  by  the  leader  that  he  intended 
to  take  the  hut  by  assault  at  nightfall,  and  for  this  purpose 
needed  a  bag  of  gunpowder  to  remove  the  barricaded 
door,  and  thus  enable  the  assailants  to  gain  the  hut  with 
comparatively  little  danger. 

A  very  easy  job  it  may  seem  to  take  by  assault,  with  a 
force  of  eight  men,  a  simple  log-hut  defended  by  just 
half  that  number ;  but  when  you  come  to  consider  the 
substantial  manner  in  which  these  chalets  are  built,  the 
immense  thick  door,  iron-bound  and  fastened  by  a  huge 
beam  drawn  across  it  from  the  inside,  and  the  resolute, 
dare-devil  character  of  the  defenders,  the  reader  will  un- 
derstand the  difficulties  with  which  the  assaulting  force 
had  to  cope. 

Soon  after  sunset  the  keeper  returned,  accompanied  by 
a  confrere  whom  he  had  found  at  home. 

Soon  afterwards,  when  it  was  sufficiently  dark,  we  com- 
pleted our  arrangements. 

The  dangerous  task  of  placing  the  gunpowder  bag 
near  the  door  of  the  hut  devolved  on  a  volunteer,  a 
keeper  whose  brother  had  been  shot  by  Tyrolese  poachers 
some  years  before. 

Slowly  creeping  along,  the  man  gained  the  door  in 
safety,  and,  placing  the  bag  against  the  latter,  lighted  the 
slip  of  tinder  which  was  to  ignite  the  clvirge,  consisting 
of  four  pounds  of  gunpowder. 


ENCOUNTER  WITH  TYROLESE  POACHERS.      79 

A  second  later,  two  shots  from  the  hut  made  us  tremble 
for  the  life  of  the  brave  volunteer. 

All  of  a  sudden  a  huge  bright  flame  shot  up,  illuminat- 
ing with  a  vivid  light  all  surrounding  objects.  A  terrible 
explosion  followed,  and  a  second  later  the  eiglit  men  had, 
with  one  impetuous  rush,  gained  the  hut,  and  were  pour- 
ing in  through  the  breach  produced  by  the  explosion. 

A  shot,  a  second  one,  followed  by  a  third  discharge, 
intimated  that  the  struggle  inside  that  narrow  log-hut  was 
waging  fierce  and  hot. 

At  this  moment  a  dark  object  rushed  past  me  up  the 
incline  on  which  I  was  standing. 

A  bullet  whistling  past  me  in  unpleasant  proximity 
induced  me  to  throw  myself  down,  while  two  of  the  keep- 
ers, in  hot  pursuit  of  the  decamping  poacher,  nearly 
stumbled  over  my  prostrate  form.  Another  shot,  and  the 
hot  and  fierce  fight  was  over. 

On  entering  tlie  hut  by  the  doorway,  now  a  large  and 
ill-shaped  breach  in  the  timber,  my  attention  was  first 
attracted  by  the  Oberfdrster  stooping  over  the  body  of  a 
man  lying  full  length  in  the  center  of  the  hut.  The  un- 
certain light  of  the  fire  in  the  open  fireplace  prevented 
my  recognizing  the  body  till  quite  close  to  it. 

It  was  old  Berchtold,  one  of  the  most  trusty  subor- 
dinates of  the  head-keeper,  shot  through  the  body.  The 
poor  fellow  was  apparently  in  a  dying  state. 

Two  of  the  other  men  were  in  the  act  of  placing  the 
gigantic  form  of  a  poacher  on  the  table,  while  the  remain- 
ing keepers  were  either  busy  binding  up  a  wound  in  the 
arm  one  of  their  comrades  had  received,  or  pinioning  the 
only  other  poacher  then  visible. 

But  where  were  the  remaining  two  keepers  and  the  two 
poachers,  who,  as  we  supposed,  had  been  sheltered  in  the 
hut,  in  addition  to  the  two  now  before  us?  And  who  was 
that  miserable  object  sitting  or  rather  crouching  in  the 
corner  of  the  fireplace,  with  his  hands  in  his  lap,  staring 
sullenly  into  the  fire?  These  were  all  questions  which 
arose  in  my  mind  while  I  was  busying  myself  with  the 
wound  of  the  poacher  stretched  out  on  the  table. 


8o       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  TEOPLE. 

Before  I  was  able  to  inquire,  the  two  missing  keepers 
returned,  holding  between  them  a  third  "Wikldieb," 
v.hose  face,  originally  blackened  with  soot  to  disguise 
himself,  was  now,  by  the  action  of  the  blood  trickling 
from  a  wound  on  the  forehead,  restored,  in  many  parts  at 
least,  to  its  original  color. 

Through  all  this  excitement  ^ve  had  entirely  forgotten 
the  brave  fellow  who  had  fired  the  gunpowder,  which  had 
done  such  good  service  in  clearing  the  way  for  the  assault- 
ing force. 

On  my  reminding  the  Oberforster  of  their  negligence,  a 
search  was  ordered,  and  the  man  was  uliimately  found, 
not  twenty  paces  from  the  hut,  in  an  insensible  condition. 

On  examining  him  we  found  that  a  ball  had  grazed  his 
head ;  and,  although  it  had  rendered  him  insensible,  he 
was  not  much  hurt. 

When  the  several  cases  Iiad  been  properly  attended  to, 
the  question  arose.  What  had  better  be  done  with  those 
who  v/ere  more  seriously  injured? 

This  point  was  not  soon  nor  easily  decided.  Old 
Eerchtold  was  without  doubt,  of  all  the  wounded,  the  one 
requiring  most  the  aid  of  a  doctor.  The  poacher  on  the 
table  was  sinking  rapidly;  but  the  two  keepers,  one 
wounded  in  the  head,  the  other  shot  through  the  shoul- 
der, and  the  poacher  taken  prisoner  while  attempting  to 
escape,  although  not  very  seriously  injured,  would  all  be 
better  for  a  more  scientific  dressing  of  their  wounds  than 
we  were  able  to  bestow  on  them. 

It  was  decided,  therefore,  to  start  homewards  as  soon  as 
a  serviceable  litter  for  the  transport  of  Eerchtold  could 
be  put  together. 

The  rest  of  the  wounded,  and  the  poacher  who  had 
come  out  of  the  fight  without  a  scratch,  were  to  accom- 
pany the  litter,  while  the  dying  poacher  was  to  be  left 
iDehind,  his  end  being  an  affair  of  a  few  hours  at  the  most. 
One  of  the  keepers  was  to  remain  behind  to  watch  over 
him,  as  well  as  over  the  mysterious  man  who  had  been 
found  in  the  hut,  and  whom  the  Oberforster  determined 
to  detain  till  the  arrival  of  the  Government  commission, 
which  was  to  investigate  the  whole  anair. 


ENCOUNTER   WITH   TYKOLESE  POACHERS.      8 1 

Two  six-foot-long  Alpenstdcke,  with  a  blanket  and 
some  branches  of  a  pine-tree,  furnished  a  capital  litter. 
Passing  a  fresh  bandage  over  Berchtold's  wound,  we 
placed  him  on  it.  Propped  up  with  several  coats,  the 
poor  fellow  was  better  off  than  we  could  have  hoped. 
Four  keepers  were  told  off  to  carry  him,  a  task  of  con- 
siderable difiiculty,  owing  to  the  steepness  of  the  descent 
and  the  roughness  of  the  path. 

Next  came  the  two  injured  keepers,  followed  by  two 
poachers  both  with  tied  hands  ;  the  Oberfdrster  walking 
behind  them,  rifle  in  hand,  vowing  he  would  shoot  the 
man  attempting  to  escape,  closed  the  file.  One  of  the 
front  carriers  of  the  litter,  and  the  keeper  injured  by 
the  ball  grazing  his  head,  carried  each  a  torch  made  of 
dry  pieces  of  wood,  between  two  and  three  feet  in  length, 
steeped  in  molten  rosin. 

While  burning,  these  emit  a  brilliant  and  ruddy  light ; 
and  as  they  are  not  easily  extinguished  by  either  wind  or 
rain,  they  are  preferable  to  lanterns,  which  latter  are  rare- 
ly used  in  the  Tyrol  or  the  Bavarian  Highlands. 

At  the  last  moment  I  changed  my  mind,  and  decided 
to  remain  in  the  hut  for  that  night  instead  of  accompany- 
ing the  "  train,"  whose  progress,  torturingly  slow  on  ac- 
count of  the  wounded,  would  in  all  likelihood  only  bring 
them  to  L towards  the  morning. 

On  re-entering  the  chalet,  after  wishing  the  departing 
file  a  safe  journey,  I  found  the  poacher  in  the  same  semi- 
conscious state  in  which  I  had  left  him. 

Lying  there  stretched  to  his  full  length,  under  the  glare 
of  the  pine-torch  stuck  in  between  two  beams  right  over 
his  head,  he  presented  a  most  painful  spectacle. 

His  was  a  handsome,  intelligent  face  ;  his  two  jet-black 
eyes,  fierce  and  angry  in  their  expression,  when  at  inter- 
vals he  opened  them  and  bent  a  piercing  glance  at  the 
keeper,  were  the  most  remarkable  features. 

His  hands,  crossed  over  his  huge  brawny  chest,  clasped 
a  rosary  whicli  one  of  the  keepers  had  handed  him  ;  and 
the  motion  of  his  fingers,  as  now  and  again  they  mo\ed 
a  bead,  siiowed  he  was  praying. 


82       GADDIXGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Closely  watching  him  from  my  seat  at  the  fireplace,  I 

perceived  the  pearly  dew  of  death  settling  on  his  brow, 
and  matting  the  locks  of  curly  black  hair  which  hung  over 
his  forehead.  His  gigantic  frame,  in  which  great  power 
and  agility  seemed  to  be  blended,  appeared  to  stretch, 
while  the  muscles  of  his  face  began  to  twitch,  and  distort 
his  manly  visage. 

Presently  he  started  up  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  in  a 
high-pitched  tone  cried  for  his  rifle.  Stepping  up  to  him, 
I  offered  to  replace  the  bandage  of  his  wound,  which, 
loosely  put  on  from  the  first,  had  been  partially  displaced 
by  his  violent  movement.  In  a  moment  he  fell  back,  ap- 
parently dead. 

Both  of  us  thought  it  was  all  over ;  but  I  hardly  had 
time  to  resume  my  seat,  when  all  of  a  sudden  he  again 
started  up,  and,  with  distorted  fiace  and  shaking  voice, 
demanded  a  priest ;  "  for,"  he  continued,  "  I  can  not  die 
till  I  have  confessed." 

Hardly  had  he  said  these  words  when  a  stream  of 
blood  gushed  from  his  mouth,  and  he  fell  back  dead. 

While  yet  speaking  these  words,  he  had  fixed  his  piercing 
eyes,  unnaturally  bright,  with  an  expression  of  such  deadly 
hate  and  mortal  enmity,  on  the  keeper,  that  v/hen  I  looked 
round,  when  all  was  over,  I  found  the  man  with  his  hands 
before  his  face,  utterly  stricken  dov/n  by  that  one  look  of 
unutterable  animosity.  It  was  only  then  that,  by  a  few 
words  dropped  by  the  man,  I  became  aware  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  the  slayer  of  the  poor  fellow. 

Though  he  had  acted  in  accordance  with  the  letter  of 
the  law  empowering  a  keeper  to  shoot  a  poacher  who 
refuses  to  sun-ender,  or  endeavors  to  defend  himself,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  dying  glance  of  his  victim  must  have 
haunted  him  ever  after,  warning  him  that  he  remained  a 
mark  for  the  rifles  of  his  victim's  comrades,  who  would 
be  only  too  eager  to  avenge  their  clansman's  death. 

I  left  the  keeper  to  his  unpleasant  meditations,  and  re- 
turned to  my  seat  at  the  fire. 

All  this  time  the  mysterious  man  was  crouching,  with- 
out e\  en  uttering  a  word,  on  the  seat  he  had  occupied 


ENCOUNTER  WITH  TYROLESE  POACHERS.      S3 

wnen  first  I  entered  the  hut,  some  three  or  four  hours  be- 
fore. I  addressed  a  few  questions  to  him  ;  but  my  queries 
remained  unanswered,  save  by  a  grunt  and  a  sullen  shake 
of  his  head. 

Presently  he  rose,  and  going  towards  the  doorwa)', 
was  about  to  leave  the  chalet,  when  the  keeper,  jumping 
up  from  his  seat,  restrained  him,  and  told  him  he  was  his 
prisoner.  The  man  obeyed  the  order  to  resume  his  seat, 
without  saying  a  word ;  but  the  vicious  glance  he  bent 
upon  the  keeper  assured  me  that  he  had  to  deal  with  a 
ferocious  customer,  who  at  the  first  opportunity  would  be 
sure  to  attempt  an  escape  by  foul  or  by  fair  means. 

No  food  had  passed  my  lips  since  the  morning,  and 
nature  began  to  demand  her  due  in  a  very  peremptory 
manner. 

After  preparing  my  simple  meal,  and  sharing  it  with  the 
keeper  (our  prisoner  refused  to  eat),  the  former  proceed- 
ed to  narrate  the  particulars  of  the  fight  in  the  hut. 

The  circumstance  that  only  one  keeper  was  seriously 
wounded  in  the  fight  was  mainly  due  to  the  fact,  that,  a 
few  seconds  before  the  explosion  and  the  subsequent 
assault,  two  of  the  defenders  of  the  chalet  had  discharged 
tlieir  rifles  at  the  man  who  had  ignited  the  charge. 

These  two  shots  had  been  fired  by  two  of  the  poachers 
sitting  on  the  roof,  to  which  they  had  climbed  by  means 
of  the  smoke-hole,  for  the  purpose  of  looking  out,  and 
watching  as  much  as  possible  the  movements  of  the 
enemy.  From  the  inside  of  the  hut  they  were  unable  to 
do  this,  as  the  only  window  had  to  be  barricaded  for 
reasons  of  safety. 

The  shock  of  the  explosion,  which  took  place  before 
they  had  time  to  reload  their  rifles,  unseated  and  landed 
them  on  the  ground  outside  of  the  hut. 

This  occurrence  had  been  partly  noticed  by  two  mem- 
bers of  the  assaulting  force  in  the  blaze  which  followed 
the  explosion  ;  and  these  two  men  proceeded  to  seize  the 
poachers,  while  the  rest  rushed  into  the  hut. 

After  a  short  but  sharp  chase  they  succeeded  in  captur- 
ing the  hindermost,  who  was  struck  down  with  a  clubbed 
rilic. 


84      GADDINGS  WITH  A  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

The  two  poachers  occupying  the  hut  were  standing 
with  their  cocked  rifles  to  tlieir  cheek,  when  Berchtold 
and  the  rest  burst  into  the  hut. 

The  former,  on  demanding  their  immediate  surrender, 
was  answered  by  two  shots ;  one  of  them  laying  him  low, 
while  the  second  one  pierced  the  shoulder  of  the  keeper 
standing  at  his  side. 

Not  content  with  felling  two  men,  they  clubbed  their 
rifles,  and,  swinging  them  over  their  heads,  were  about  to 
attack  the  group  clustering  round  the  door,  with  the  evi- 
dent design  of  forcing  their  way  out.  This  was,  however, 
not  to  happen  ;  for  before  the  foremost  of  the  two  poachers 
had  advanced  a  few  steps,  he  fell  pierced  through  the 
lungs.  His  companion,  who  was  a  smaller  man,  had 
been  sheltered  more  or  less  by  the  huge  frame  of  his 
comrade  ;  as  soon  as  that  fell  he  surrendered,  pitching 
his  useless  rifle  into  the  corner. 

The  reader  will  now  comprehend  what  a  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance it  was  that  the  fire  of  two  of  these  dare-devil 
fellows  on  the  roof  had  been  drawn,  without  serious  results, 
before  the  moment  when  the  assault  actually  took  place. 
Had  these  four  men  retained  their  loaded  rifles,  and  had 
they  remained  in  the  dark  corner  of  the  hut,  the  fight 
would  have  been  of  a  more  equal  character,  and  the 
issue,  if  not  reversed,  would  at  least  have  involved  a 
greater  sacrifice  of  life.  I  passed  the  night,  for  the  most 
part  wide  awake,  before  the  fire,  either  watching  my  two 
dozing  companions  and  the  grotesque  shadows  playing 
about  the  walls,  or  replenishing  the  fire,  which  had  to 
serve  as  our  candle  after  the  torch  had  burned  out. 
Right  glad  I  was  when  the  gray  morning  light  streamed 
in  through  the  open  doorway,  and  I  could  depart  from 
the  scene  of  the  late  fight  without  becoming  a  prey  to 
that  unpleasant  feeling  which  undoubtedly  I  must  have 
experienced  had  I  left  the  previous  evening,  namely,  that 
vague,  uncomfortable  sense  of  having  acted  inhumanly  in 
leaving  a  dying  man  to  the  questionable  care  of  his  late 
adversary. 

On  reaching   L towards  noon  I   found  that  the 


ENCOL'NTER   WITH   TVRO/.ESIC  POACHERS.      S5 

doctor,  wlio  had  been  summoned  from  the  next  smpJl 
town,  some  seven  or  eight  miles  distant,  had  just  arrived, 
and  held  out  some  hope  of  Cerchtold's  ultimate  recovery  ; 
though  of  course  he  would  be  for  ever  afterwards  unfit 
for  his  calling  as  keeper.     The  rest  were  going  on  well. 

I  left  L the  next  morning  not  a  little  disgusted  with 

the  heartless  pleasure  displayed  by  the  villagers  at  the 
success  of  the  keepers'  raid  :  that  a  life  had  been  vic- 
timized, seemed  to  them  as  part  of  a  just  and  proper 
punishment. 

My  readers  may  perhaps  ask  why  the  poachers  did  not 
surrender  to  an  overwhelming  force  at  the  outset  of  the 
fight.  I  think  I  have  already  partially  answered  this 
question  when  I  said  that  a  genuine  T>Tolese,  reared  in 
the  secluded  parts  of  the  glorious  Alps,  values  freedom 
and  liberty  more  than  life  itself.  This  feeling,  together 
wth  the  fact  that  poachers,  by  their  reckless  daring,  often 
succeed  in  vanquishing  a  superior  number  of  keepers, 
will  explain  the  apparent  imprudence  of  their  resistance, 
which  I  am  nearly  convinced  would  have  brought  them 
through,  had  it  not  been  for  the  stratagem  of  the  wily 
Herr  Oberforster. 

The  worst  feature  of  such  adventures  is  that  scores  of 
brave  lives,  gifted  with  powers  of  endurance  and  strength 
almost  superhuman,  are  thus  sacrificed ;  and,  generally 
speaking,  it  is  just  this  vigor  and  force  v/hich  lead  their  pos- 
sessors astray.  The  poor  fellow  turns  poacher  simply  for 
the  love  of  that  most  exciting  and  dangerous  sport,  the 
chase  of  the  chamois,  —  an  animal  which  has,  indirectly, 
brought  more  lives  to  grief  than  the  savage  tiger  of  India 
or  the  royal  lion  of  Africa. 


so       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    BLACKCOCK. 

THE  capercali,  the  largest  of  European  gallinaceous 
birds,  and  the  blackcock  {Tetrao  tetr'ix),  are  the 
two  largest  game-birds  of  Tyrol.  Both  belong  to  the 
grouse  species ;  but  while  the  former  is  of  gigantic  size, 
weighing  as  much  as  from  ten  to  fourteen  pounds,  —  in 
fact,  quite  as  large  as  a  turkey,  —  the  latter  is  much  small- 
er, his  weight  but  rarely  exceeding  four  pounds.  Though 
the  capercali  is  the  more  magnificent  bird  of  the  two,  the 
blackcock  is  considered  the  nobler  game.  Far  shyer  and 
more  cunning,  the  latter  is  very  difficult  to  shoot  in  Tyrol ; 
and  the  sport  requires  great  hardihood,  patience,  and  an 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  bird's  peculiarities. 

I  believe  these  fine  birds  are  to  be  found  in  some  dis- 
tricts of  England,  especially  on  the  estates  of  the  Marquis 
of  Anglesea;  and  from  certain  historical  accounts  it 
appears  that  both  the  blackcock  and  the  capercali  were 
once  very  abundant  in  the  forests  of  Scotland,  though  the 
former  had  always  the  privilege,  and  was  considered 
"royal  game." 

Both  these  species  of  grouse  are  shot  in  Tyrol  on  quite 
a  different  principle  to  that  in  England,  where  the  shoot- 
ing commences  on  Sept.  i.  In  Tyrol,  on  the  contrary, 
they  are  shot  during  the  pairing  season,  in  April  and 
May,  the  hen-birds  being  carefully  spared. 

Strange  to  say,  the  sight  and  ear  of  the  blackcock 
assume  during  the  pairing  period  an  amazing  keenness, 
while  those  of  the  capercali  remain  very  much  the  same 
throughout  the  year. 


•     THE  BLACKCOCK.  87 

This  of  course  renders  blackcock-shooting,  although  an 
interesting,  by  no  means  an  easy  sport.  As  with  chamois- 
shooting,  there  are  various  ways  and  means  of  making 
it  easier ;  and  these  are  generally  adopted  by  gentlemen 
who  have  well-stocked  preserves,  and  who  shun  the  fa- 
tigues and  exposure  to  the  cold  incidental  to  the  genuine 
sport.  With  the  increased  ease,  much  of  its  charm  van- 
ishes ;  and,  to  speak  candidly,  I  would  rather  shoot  one 
cock  according  to  the  regular  Tyrolese  fashion,  alone  and 
unaided  by  any  artificial  contrivance,  than  half  a  dozen 
from  the  hut  erected  near  the  tree  where,  for  days  previ- 
ously, a  cock  has  been  spotted  by  a  keeper.  I  must  add 
that  the  blackcock,  if  he  remains  undisturbed,  invariably 
returns  every  morning  from  his  haunts  lower  down  in  the 
woods,  during  the  v/hole  of  the  pairing  season,  to  one 
and  the  same  tree,  perched  upon  one  of  the  branches  of 
which  he  sings  his  love-song.  It  is  therefore  not  difficult 
for  the  noble  master  to  slay  his  royal  game,  when  once 
a  cock  has  been  spotted  by  a  keeper,  and  a  miniature 
hut  has  been  run  up  in  the  course  of  the  day  close  to  the 
tree  in  question.  It  is  simply  a  question  of  sit>ting  a  few 
hours,  well  wrapped  up  in  coats  or  furs,  patiently  awaiting 
the  advent  of  the  game.  Far  different  from  this  is  the 
genuine  sport.  An  account  of  an  expedition  of  this  kind 
may  give  some  idea  of  its  attractiveness,  though  perhaps 
but  few  would  be  willing  to  share  the  fatigues  and  ex- 
posure to  cold  incidental  to  it. 

The  difficulties  of  the  pursuit  in  the  pairing  season  are 
much  enhanced  by  the  great  elevation  of  the  spot  selected 
by  the  cock  for  the  scene  of  his  amorous  ad\entures,  and 
of  the  fierce  combats  which  generally  precede  them.  I 
have  known  as  many  as  three  or  four  fights  take  place 
before  the  cock,  who  proves  himself  victor  over  his  two 
or  three  rivals,  can  commence  his  strange  antics  and  odd- 
sounding  love-song,  for  the  edification  of  the  hens  who 
crowd  round  their  polygamous  lord  and  master.  Noth- 
ing is  more  ludicrous  than  to  see  the  love-sick  cock,  full 
dressed  in  the  glory  of  his  glossy  steel-blue  plumage, 
strut  round  the  base  of  the  tree  selected  for  the  scene  of 


SB       GADDTNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIl'E  PEOPLE. 

action.  Now  trailing  his  wings,  turkey  fasliion,  and  inflat- 
ing his  glistening  throat ;  now  throwing  back  his  head, 
his  neck  waving  to  and  fro,  while  the  tail  is  expanded  to 
its  full,  standing  at  right  angles  to  his  body ;  then  again, 
in  the  ecstasy  of  passion,  trembling  all  over  his  body, 
while  froth  issues  from  his  beak,  and  the  eyes  are  covered 
with  the  nictitating  and  glittering  membrane,  he  will  gam- 
bol and  throw  somersaults  with  amazing  rapidity. 

The  love-song  of  the  cock  is,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  a 
matter  of  great  importance  to  the  sportsman.  It  consists 
of  three  distinct  notes,  or  "  Gsatzln,"  which  are  repeated 
constantly,  and  at  intervals  more  or  less  regular.  Resem- 
bling the  love-song  of  the  capercali,  though  much  louder, 
the  first  and  second  notes  could  be  compared  to  gurgling 
chuckles,  while  the  third,  "das  Schleifen,"  might  be  com- 
pared to  the  sound  caused  by  sharpening  an  edged  tool 
on  a  whetstone.  The  third  note  is  the  one  for  which  the 
sportsman  must  wait.  During  its  utterance  the  cock  is 
entirely  insensible  to  danger ;  his  passion  in  this  second 
or  two  is  so  excessive  that  sight  as  well  as  hearing  are 
dead  to  all  other  influences.  While  it  is  being  repeated 
the  hunter  may  advance,  and  can  even  fire  off  his  gun 
without  disturbing  the  bird  ;  while  during  the  two  first 
notes,  and  during  the  intervals,  the  most  perfect  silence 
must  be  observed  by  the  hunter,  hidden  by  rock  or  brush- 
wood from  the  amazingly  keen  sight  of  his  game.  A 
suppressed  sigh  at  a  distance  of  many  yards  is  sufficient 
to  send  off  the  alarmed  cock. 

But  now  to  my  own  account  of  a  blackcock-shooting  ex- 
pedidon.  With  a  pair  of  snow-hoops,  my  trusty  crampons, 
and  a  single-barreled  large-bore  fowling-piece,  and  with 
my  usual  bag,  filled  with  provisions  for  three  or  four  days, 
on  my  back,  I  started  on  a  fine  April  morning  for  the 
scene  of  action,  a  remote  valley  some  eight  hours  off.  A 
week's  bright  sunshine  had  melted  the  snow  on  my  path, 
and  even  for  several  hundred  feet  above  me  the  Alpine 
pasturages  and  somber,  dark-green  pine-forests  clothing 
the  adjacent  slopes  were  free  of  their  white  pall.  Arriving 
in  due  time  at  a  small  peasant's  cottage,  —  the  last  house 


THE  BLACKCOCK'.  89 

on  my  way,  —  I  determined  to  remain  tliere  till  fall 
of  night.  Entering  the  general  room  of  the  house,  I 
received  a  warm  welcome  by  its  owner,  liis  family,  and 
Lois,  a  daring  young  native  sportsman  v.ho  had  often 
been  my  companion  on  shooting-expeditions.  The  rest 
of  the  afternoon  and  the  evening  —  I  had  decided  to  put 
off  my  departure  till  nine  o'clock  at  night  —  were  passed 
in  agreeable  company,  chatting  and  laughing  over  our 
glasses  of  schnapps,  that  being  the  only  liquor  the  man 
had  in  his  house.  A  number  of  forgotten  adventures  and 
odd  shooting  anecdotes,  in  which  either  or  both  of  us 
had  played  a  part,  came  upon  the  tapis,  to  the  great  mirth 
of  the  whole  party,  so  that  when  the  crazy  old  clock  in 
the  corner  of  the  wainscoted  room  began  to  "  hum  and 
haw  "  preceding  the  final  effort  of  striking  the  necessary 
nine  strokes,  I  was  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  leave  the  merry 
company,  and  exchange  the  cozy  warm  room  for  the  bit- 
terly cold  air  outside.  On  issuing  forth,  we  saw  the  full 
disk  of  the  moon  just  cresting  the  high  ridge  of  snowy 
mountains,  at  the  very  base  of  which  lay  the  narrow  glen 
in  which  the  cottage  was  situated.  The  cold,  although  it 
was  the  latter  half  of  April,  was  intense  ;  but  I  was  very 
soon,  by  dint  of  fast  walking,  in  that  pleasant  state  of 
warmth  peculiar  to  violent  exertion  in  cold  v/eather.  Put- 
ting my  best  foot  forward,  I  had  within  five  or  ten  minutes 
reached  the  snow-line  again.  Fastening  the  snow-hoops  to 
my  feet,  I  began  work  in  earnest.  As  I  sank  nearly  up  to 
my  thighs  at  every  step,  it  took  me  more  than  three  tedious 
hours  to  gain  the  first  eminence,  some  two  or  three  thou- 
sand feet  over  the  hut.  The  dry,  powdery  state  of  the 
snow  had  gradually  given  way  to  a  greater  firmness,  and 
at  last,  on  reaching  the  top  of  the  ridge,  I  found  the  snow 
"  harscht,"  or  frozen.  Owing  to  the  depth  of  the  ravine 
up  which  I  had  traced  my  steps,  the  rays  of  the  sun  had 
never  touched  its  sides,  and  the  snow  v/as  therefore  pow- 
dery and  unresisting :  higher  up,  on  the  contrary,  the  sun 
had  melted  the  top  layer  of  snow,  which,  in  the  long  hours 
of  the  night,  froze,  and  resembled  as  much  as  possible 
the  smooth  surface  of  a  glacier  after  a  hot  August  sun  has 


90       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

polished  it.  My  snow-hoops  now,  of  course,  became  not 
only  useless,  but  actually  dangerous.  Unfastening  them, 
I  strapped  my  crampons  on,  and  got  my  small  ice-ax 
ready. 

The  moon  shining  brightly,  night  was  changed  into 
day ;  it  was  therefore  easy  to  continue  my  way  up  the 
next  ridge,  from  the  base  of  which  I  was,  however,  yet 
some  little  distance  off,  a  sort  of  miniature  valley  lying 
between  me  and  the  point  where  an  ascent  up  the  very 
precipitous  slopes  was  practicable.  Well  acquainted  with 
the  terrain,  I  knew  there  was  no  chasm  or  rocks  at  the 
bottom  of  the  gully,  and  imagined  there  was  no  danger 
attendant  on  sliding  a  la  Tyrolese  down  the  icy  slope 
which,  as  I  have  said,  I  had  to  cross.  Cutting  two  or 
three  pine-branches  off  the  next  tree,  I  intwined  them  so 
that  they  should  furnish  a  sort  of  seat.  On  this  I  sat 
down,  and  digging  my  ice-ax,  as  a  sort  of  drag,  into  the 
glistening  surface,  I  began  my  descent.  As  the  slope  was 
not  very  steep  at  first,  my  drag  was  of  sufficient  resisting 
power  to  check  the  pace ;  but  soon,  to  my  dismay,  the 
gradient  grew  steeper  and  steeper,  increasing  in  a  propor- 
tionate degree  the  speed  at  which  I  was  traveling.  My 
ax  was  wrenched  out  of  my  hand,  and  I  was  left  to  the 
mercy  of  the  hindermost  spokes  in  my  crampons ;  but 
these,  owing  to  the  position  of  my  body  and  my  feet, 
only  scratched  the  ice,  checking  the  speed  but  httle. 
The  slope  was  some  900  or  1,000  yards  in  length,  and 
before  I  had  reached  the  middle  even  this  mode  of 
checking  my  downward  course  became  too  dangerous  to 
continue ;  for  had  my  crampons  come  in  contact  with 
the  slightest  unevenness,  or  with  the  smallest  stone  em- 
bedded in  the  ice,  I  should  have  been  jerked  head  fore- 
most oft"  my  seat,  and  left  to  continue  my  course  at  light- 
ning speed  in  any  but  a  comfortable  position.  Fortu- 
nately this  chd  not  occur,  and  I  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
gully  seated  on  my  primitive  sledge.  Though  my  whole 
downward  slide  could  not  have  taken  more  than  four  or 
five  seconds,  the  terrific  speed  had  taken  away  my  breath, 
and,  what  was  worse,  the  impetus  had  driven  me  far  into 


7 HE  BLACKCOCK.  9^ 

a  snowdrift  of  large  dimensions,  wliich  had  accumulated 
at  the  foot  of  the  slope,  and  which,  as  it  was  under  the 
lee  of  a  high  wall  of  rock,  was  protected  from  the  sun, 
and  consisted  therefore  of  powdery,  loose  snow,  offering 
hardly  any  resistance  to  my  mad  onslaught,  which  carried 
me  right  to  the  center  of  the  huge  hill.  After  working 
myself  out,  and  dusting  my  coat  and  trousers  (my  gun- 
lock  was  protected  by  a  mackintosh  wrapper),  I  started 
once  more  up  a  steep  incline  covered  with  a  coat  of  ice, 
or  rather  frozen  snow,  polished  and  smoothened  by  the 
action  of  a  warm  April  sun  and  intense  cold  at  night. 
By  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  reached  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  or  what  might  pass  for  it,  the  scene  of  action. 
I  liave  said  that  the  fact  of  knowing  the  precise  spot 
where  a  blackcock  holds  his  love-court  facilitates,  to  a 
great  extent,  the  final  result.  Nov/,  the  ridge  of  moun- 
tains upon  which  I  was  standing  was  some  three  or  four 
hours  in  length,  and  probably  along  the  whole  of  it  not 
more  than  one,  or  at  the  utmost  two,  blackcocks  could  be 
found.  The  choice  of  the  right  spot  thus  became  a  mat- 
ter of  luck.  To  some  extent,  of  course,  one  can  be  guided 
in  one's  selection  of  the  spot  one  intends  to  watch  by  the 
fact  that  they  generally  choose  the  very  highest  points  of 
the  mountains,  selecting,  if  possible,  for  their  headquar- 
ters, an  old,  gnarled,  weather-beaten  pine,  or  "  Zirbe,"  — 
a  species  of  pine  growing  only  in  the  highest  regions  of 
vegetation. 

By  the  time  I  had  eaten  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  small 
bit  of  bacon,  swallowed  a  gulp  of  the  "  Enzian  Schnapps," 
and  turned  over  in  my  mind  the  various  "  Stande  "  on 
that  ridge  where  a  cock  could  possibly  be,  it  was  close 
upon  three  o'clock,  and  therefore  the  very  best  time  to 
proceed  to  the  spot  selected.  The  moon  had  clisap- 
peared  ;  and  I  was  glad  I  had  no  very  bad  places  to  cross 
on  my  way  to  the  spot  chosen  by  me  as  the  most  likely, 
if  not  for  seeing  a  cock,  yet  at  least  for  hearing  him,  and 
so  spotting  him  for  the  next  morning. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour's  cautious  climbing  brought  me 
to  the  northern  extremity  of  the  ridge,  where,  in  gigantic 


92       GADDIXGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Steps  of  a  couple  of  thousand  feet  each,  the  mountain 
abruptly  fell  off  down  to  the  valley,  some  four  or  five 
thousand  feet  below  me. 

Quite  close  to  the  spot  where  I  had  killed  a  fine  cock 
the  year  before,  I  hid  myself  as  much  as  possible  behind 
the  tough  branches  of  a  Latschen  bush,  about  ten  paces 
from  a  huge  patriarchal  "Zirbe,"  stripped  of  nearly  all 
its  branches  by  repeated  strokes  of  lightning,  and  rear- 
ing its  gaunt,  gnarled  trunk  into  the  starlit  sky.  For  the 
next  hour  all  was  silent  round  me ;  and  the  intense  cold, 
abetted  by  a  piercing  wind,  succeeded  in  making  my 
place  of  ambush  as  uncomfortable  as  possible.  Shortly 
after  four  o'clock  the  heaven  began  to  show  signs  of 
approaching  day.  The  snowy  peaks  which  reared  their 
noble  forms  all  round  me  were  one  by  one  lit  up  with 
the  exquisitely  rosy  tint  peculiar  to  the  reflection  of  the 
earliest  rays  of  the  sun  on  unbroken  surfaces  of  snow. 
As  yet  the  sun  was  not  up,  and  would  not  be  up  for  at 
least  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  in  fact,  it  was  just  that  moment 
when  the  blackcock,  whose  maxim  is  "  early  to  bed  and 
early  to  rise,"  shows  the  first  signs  of  life. 

A  distinct  "whirr"  close  over  my  head  told  me  that 
my  selection  had  been  a  good  one.  Hardly  daring  to 
look  at  the  tree,  for  fear  of  betraying  myself  to  the  cock, 
I  perceived,  relieved  against  the  light  sky,  the  noble  bird 
seated  on  one  of  the  remaining  branches  of  the  Zirbe-tree. 

I  could  do  nothing,  not  even  raise  my  gun,  till  the 
third  note  of  the  song  assured  me  that  the  cock  was  at 
the  height  of  his  passion.  A  flap  of  his  powerful  wings, 
and  he  had  changed  his  perch  to  another  branch  higher 
up,  but  hidden  from  my  view  by  the  trunk  of  the  tree. 
The  next  minute  the  love-sick  cock  was  singing.  AVas  I 
to  wait  till  he  flew  to  the  ground  and  began  his  amusing 
antics,  running  the  chance  of  losing  him  out  of  sight  ? 
or  was  I  to  endeavor  to  "  anspringen,"  the  process  of  grad- 
ually approaching  him  by  a  series  of  jumps  or  strides, 
performed  while  the  cock  is  singing  the  third  notes?  On 
the  other  hand,  delay  seemed  imprudent,  as  by  his  song 
I  knew  the  cock  to  be  an  "old"  one,  —  that  is,  three 


THE  BLACKCOCK.  93 

years  of  age,  —  and  therefore  of  a  particularly  jealous  dis- 
position, eager  to  fight  any  young  interloper  who  might 
betray  his  presence  in  the  old  cock's  preserves  by  singing. 
As,  further,  it  was  very  early  in  the  season,  and  thus  likely 
that  the  cock  had  not  yet  settled  down  to  any  one  defi- 
nite spot  for  his  morning  song,  but  was  shifting  about  from 
place  to  place,  singing  a  few  stanzas  at  each,  I  presumed 
it  was  the  safest  course  to  try  "  anspringen,"  consisting  in 
this  instance  of  shifdng  my  position  a  little  to  one  side, 
in  order  to  get  a  view  of  the  bird.  On  my  right,  not 
more  than  a  foot,  an  immense  precipice  fell  off,  so  in 
order  to  hide  myself  I  had  to  move  to  the  left,  over  some 
rocks  bare  of  any  vegetation.  Ventre  a  ierre,  I  awaited 
the  signal  to  move,  namely,  the  third  note  ;  then  jumping 
up  and  running  forward  two  or  three  steps,  I  had  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  third  note,  which  lasts  but  a  few 
seconds,  to  throw  myself  down  again,  remaining  quite 
motionless  till  the  next  "Gsatzl." 

Three  of  these  momentary  but  frantic  leaps  brought  me 
to  the  desired  spot,  from  v/hence  I  had  a  full  view  of  the 
•cock,  and  the  very  next  "Gsatzl"  of  the  bird  was  in- 
tended by  me  to  be  its  last. 

Luck,  however,  forsook  me  at  that  moment.  Inflating 
his  throat,  and  expanding  his  magnificent  tail  to  its  full, 
he  was  just  about  to  commence  the  second  note  of  liis 
dirge,  in  my  full  view,  hardly  thirty  yards  off,  when  with  a 
slight  crack  a  small  twig  snapped  asunder  under  my  weight. 
The  next  second,  before  I  had  time  to  raise  my  gun  to 
venture  a  flying  shot,  the  cock  was  off,  passing  in  his 
short  but  "  dipping  "  flight  the  very  bush  behind  which  I 
was  hidden. 

Cramped  with  the  cold,  wet  through  from  lying  on  the 
snow,  and  out  of  humor,  I  was  just  considering  what  to 
do  next,  when  from  afar,  but  still  on  the  same  ridge  of 
mountains,  I  heard  the  song  of  a  second  cock.  The  dis- 
tance was  too  great  to  hold  out  any  hopes  of  reaching 
the  cock  before  he  was  off  from  liis  rendezvous.  I  there- 
fore determined  to  "spot"  him  if  possible,  in  order  that 
I  might  be  sure  of  him  the  n'.xt  morning. 


94       GADDINGS  WITH  A  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

I  proceeded,  therefore,  with  all  dispatch  in  the  direction 
of  the  sound,  and  within  three-quarters  of  an  hour  had 
reached  a  prominent  crag,  from  the  top  of  which  I  had  a 
full  view  of  the  place  where  I  supposed  the  game  to  be. 
Lying  at  full  length  on  the  eminence,  telescope  in  hand,  I 
scanned  the  isolated  gnarled  old  pines  and  "Zirben" 
which  dotted  a  large  expanse  of  barren  ground,  upon 
which,  scattered  about  in  every  direction,  lay  huge  boul- 
ders of  rock.  All  was  silent,  but  shortly  I  saw  two  hens 
take  wing  from  beneath  one  of  the  trees  some  eight  or 
nine  hundred  yards  off.  Presently  the  cock  followed  suit ; 
but  as  it  was  early  in  the  season,  he  took  a  different  direc- 
tion, and  finally,  after  alighting  for  a  moment  on  a  tree, 
crossed  the  valley  at  my  feet,  and  disappeared  in  the 
morning  mist  that  filled  it. 

After  remaining  upwards  of  an  hour  seated  on  my 
Rucksack,  enjoying  the  splendid  view  rolled  out  at  my 
feet,  I  descended  to  an  Alp-hut  half  an  hour's  walk  from 
the  point  I  was  occupying.  In  this  hut  I  intended  to 
stop  during  the  day  and  the  better  part  of  the  next  night, 
leaving  it  an  hour  or  two  before  sunrise  next  morning  for 
the  tree  upon  which  I  had  spotted  the  last  cock.  On 
reaching  the  hut,  occupying  a  sort  of  sink  in  the  ground, 
I  found  only  the  roof  projecting  from  the  snow.  As  in- 
gress by  the  door  was  well-nigh  impossible,  save  by  dig- 
ging a  cutting  down  to  it,  I  preferred  the  other  way  of 
effecting  an  entrance,  viz.,  by  removing  two  or  three  of 
the  "  Schindeln,"  small  boards  of  larch-wood,  with  which 
these  huts  are  roofed,  each  board  being  nailed  down,  and, 
further,  to  prevent  the  whole  roof  being  carried  off  by 
the  high  winds,  weighted  by  heavy  stones. 

Five  minutes'  work  and  a  jump  down  the  dark  space 
landed  me  safely  in  the  front  part  of  the  hut,  containing 
a  fireplace,  an  iron  pan,  a  brass  spoon,  and  a  cot  filled 
with  hay.  Well  provided  with  provisions,  and  even  the 
luxury  of  some  newspapers  to  pass  the  time,  and  a  candle 
whereby  to  read  them,  I  expected  —  to  use  an  American 
phrase  —  to  have  a  good  time  in  my  solitary  habitation. 
The  first  quarter  of  an  hour  saw  a  briglit  fire  on  the  open 


THE  BLACKCOCK.  95 

hearth,  a  pan  full  of  "  Schmarn,"  my  coat  and  boots  hung 
up  to  dry,  and  an  invigorating  gulp  of  schnapps  going 
down  my  throat.  Having  dispatched  a  hearty  breakfast, 
and  piled  several  logs  on  the  fire,  I  turned  in  to  have 
five  or  six  hours  of  sleep.  Buried  in  a  pile  of  fragrant, 
hay,  I  was  as  comfortably  bedded  as  a  tired  man  need 
wish  to  be.  \ 

Awaking  refreshed  after  nearly  eight  hours  of  rest,  I 
passed  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  the  evening  in  cook- 
ing a  repetition  of  my  breakfast  for  my  dinner,  and  witli 
reading  comfortably,  stretched  out  on  the  seat  running 
round  the  fire,  two  or  three  numbers  of  "  The  Saturday 
Review."  The  intellectual  as  well  as  the  bodily  man 
being  in  a  state  of  repletion,  I  turned  over  on  the  bench, 
and  the  next  minute  I  was  sleeping.  Long  before  it  was 
time  to  depart,  I  started  up  with  an  uneasy  feeling  of  hav- 
ing overslept  the  right  hour.  Consulting  my  watch,  I 
found  it  had  stopped ;  so  naught  remained  but  to  climb 
up  to  my  air-hole,  and  have  a  look  at  the  moon,  by  the 
position  of  which  in  the  heavens  I  knew  I  could  tell  the 
time  to  within  half  an  hour. 

Re-assured,  I  returned  to  the  fireplace,  relit  the  fire, 
and  proceeded  to  brew  myself  a  strong  panful  of  tea, 
which  was  followed  by  a  "  Schmarn  "  and  a  slice  of 
bacon. 

About  half-past  two  I  collected  my  traps,  stowed  them 
("  Saturday  Review,"  candle,  tea,  and  bacon)  away  in  my 
Rucksack,  put  a  fresh  cap  on  my  gun,  and  was  just  creep- 
ing out  of  the  hole  in  the  roof,  when  my  attention  was 
attracted  to  a  small  animal  scampering  away  from  the  hut 
over  the  moonlit,  glittering  snow.  Guessing  it  to  be  a 
pine-marten,  I  fired  at  it.  My  position  at  the  moment 
of  firing  was  a  somewhat  critical  one.  As  I  was  balan- 
cing myself  with  one  foot  on  a  thin  spar  inside  the  roof, 
the  least  shock  was  sufficient  to  knock  me  down  from  my 
nicely-poised  post.  A  heavy  charge  in  the  gun,  and  a 
proportionately  strong  recoil,  sent  me  head  over  heels 
down  into  the  hay  some  five  or  six  feet  below  me. 

Re-ascending,  I  saw  that  the  marten  had  also  fallen. 


96       GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

though,  as  its  motionless  position  indicated,  its  fall  was 
attended  by  more  fatal  results  than  my  own  tumble. 
Creeping  out,  I  closed  the  hole,  and  going  over  to  my 
prey,  I  found  it  to  be  a  fine  male  pine-marten,  a  species 
prized  for  its  fur.  If  it  be  shot  in  winter,  the  fur  gener- 
ally fetches  some  ten  or  twelve  florins  (i/.,  or  i/.  4^.). 
My  sportsman  reader  will  perhaps  learn  with  surprise  that 
I  ventured  to  fire  so  near  the  spot  where  I  intended  to 
watch  for  the  blackcock.  Considering,  however,  that  it 
lay  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge,  and  that  the  birds 
always  roost  in  woods  or  brushwood  considerably  lower 
down,  I  was  not  afraid  of  any  bad  results.  I  was  soon 
at  the  place  of  ambush  selected  by  me  the  previous 
morning.  A  cold  hour  followed,  and  then  the  "whirr" 
of  the  approaching  cock.  It  was  as  yet  too  dark  to 
shoot,  for  the  moon  had  gone  down  some  time  before,  so 
I  waited  patiently  till  Ijreak  of  day.  Meanwhile  the  bird 
had  begun  to  sing,  flying  to  the  ground  now  and  again, 
and  performing  his  amusing  antics,  of  which,  however,  I 
saw  but  little.  Again  he  was  up  on  the  branch,  giving 
me  a  full  view  of  his  noble  shape,  drawn  in  sharp  outlines 
on  the  cloudless  sky.  The  next  "  Gsatzl  "  saw  me  raise 
my  gun,  and  the  next  second  the  noble  bird  was  lying  on 
the  snow. 

A  far-echoing  "  Juchheisa  !  "  blended  with  the  rolling 
echoes  of  my  shot,  rent  the  air,  while  with  a  few  strides  I 
was  at  the  side  of  my  game. 

Pleasant  it  is  to  look  back  to  such  moments  as  these. 
The  fatigues  and  privations  which  one  undergoes  — 
though  in  this  instance  the  latter  v/ere  not  worth  speak- 
ing of — only  increase  the  exhilaration  at  having  suc- 
ceeded in  spite  of  cold,  snow,  the  difficulties  of  ascent, 
and  all  the  other  hinderances  which  obstruct  the  sports- 
man's path  in  T3T0I. 

Far  different,  indeed,  are  the  feehngs  of  the  unsuccess- 
ful hunter,  returning  home,  perhaps  after  two  or  three 
days  of  fatigue  and  exposure,  in  the  character  of  a 
"Schneider"  (tailor),  the  nickname  given  to  sportsmen 
returning  with  empty  Rucksack.     Dejected,  sullen,  and 


THE   BLACKCOCK'.  97 

disgusted,  he  returns  crestfallen  homewards.  Doubly 
long,  fearfully  steep,  and  strangely  unpicturesque  and 
tame,  do  the  path  and  the  surrounding  scenery  appear  to 
him,  while  the  cold  or  the  heat,  as  the  case  may  be,  seems 
unt'earable. 


98       GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMIIIVE  PEOPLE 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PRIESTHOOD  AND   SUPERSTITION. 

TO  the  fact  that  Tyrol  is  the  most  exckisively  moun- 
tainous country  in  Europe,  —  even  Switzerland  con- 
taining a  larger  relative  proportion  of  open  country,  —  we 
must  attribute  most  of  the  peculiarities  and  customs  that 
strike  the  observer. 

One  of  the  most  important  characteristics  is  the  excep- 
tional position  of  the  clergy.  Tyrol,  one  of  the  strong- 
holds of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  is  ruled  to  an  aston- 
ishing extent  by  the  priesthood  ;  and  though  in  the  course 
of  the  last  ten  or  fifteen  years  the  Church  has  lost  a  good 
deal  of  her  former  influence  and  power  in  the  three  or 
four  larger  valleys  of  North  Tyrol,  the  ignorant  natives  of 
the  more  secluded  and  poorer  x\lpine  glens  are  yet  terri- 
bly in  the  clutches  of  the  "Blacks,"  —  the  name  given  to 
bigoted  priests.  Superstition  and  blind  behef  in  the 
power  of  their  Church  are  the  two  firm  rocks  upon  which 
the  clergy  have  erected  their  structure  of  spiritual  govern- 
ment, leaving  the  civil  form  of  judicature  far  behind  in 
importance  and  energetic  vigilance.  In  a  country  where 
social  laws  are  yet  at  a  low  degree  of  development,  re- 
minding us  only  too  often  of  customs  and  habits  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  we  must  be  glad  that  any  power  exists  able 
to  curb  the  animal  passions  of  a  primitive  people.  At 
the  present  moment  (and  I  have  no  doubt  he  will  do  so 
for  many  years  to  come)  a  peasant  dreads  the  punish- 
ment inflicted  by  his  priest  —  consisting  of  perhaps  a  tem- 
porary refusal  to  grant  absolution  —  a  hundred  times  more 


PRIESTHOOD  AND  SUPERSTITION.  99 

than  any  fine  or  sentence  of  imprisonment  which  the  law 
can  inflict  upon  him.  ^^'hat  is  a  month's  imprisonment 
to  a  man  whose  mind  is  overcharged  with  the  horrible 
pictures  of  hell,  and  the  everlasting  tortures  which  are 
sure  to  follow  disobedience  to  the  ordinances  and  laws  of 
the  holy  Catholic  Church? 

I  have  hinted  at  the  low  scale  of  morality  of  the  Tyrol- 
ese  ;  and  without  entering  into  any  unpleasant  details,  it. 
must  be  remarked  that  among  the  lower  classes  of  the 
population  the  intercourse  between  the  sexes  is  decidedly 
freer  than  in  most  other  countries  of  Europe. 

There  are  two  or  three  conspicuous  causes  to  which  we 
can  trace  this.  The  most  prominent  are  the  municipal 
restrictions  that  cumber  marriage  among  the  lower  classes 
in  the  rural  districts.  Very  recently  only  has  the  Aus- 
trian Government  annulled  the  law  which  compelled  a 
man  desirous  of  entering  into  the  holy  bonds  of  marriage 
to  prove  a  certain  income,  and,  further,  be  the  owner  of  a 
house  or  homestead  of  some  kind,  before  the  license  was 
granted.  The  heads  of  the  parishes,  very  naturally  too, 
gave  the  necessary  permission  reluctantly,  if  they  enter- 
tained the  slightest  fear  of  having  ultimately  a  pauper 
family  thrown  upon  the  poor  resources  of  the  parish. 
Owing  to  this,  and  to  the  fact  that  nearly  40,000  Tyrolese, 
generally  young  men,  leave  their  country  every  year  in 
search  of  employment  which  keeps  them  away  from  their 
homes  for  the  better  part  of  the  year,  the  majority  of 
couples  contracting  marriage  in  Tyrol  have  passed  the 
meridian  of  youth. 

Next  in  importance,  as  a  cause,  is  the  lax  way  in  which 
the  Church  deals  with  licentious  misconduct.  Strict  in 
most  vital  points,  she  shows  a  remarkable  deficiency  of 
energy  in  combating  with  an  evil,  which,  it  is  true,  does 
not  touch  the  interests  of  the  Church  herself,  but  yet 
would  be  worthy  of  her  most  strenuous  efforts  to  abolish. 
Immoral  intercourse  between  the  sexes  is,  in  her  eyes,  a 
minor  iniquity,  expiated  by  confession.  We  must  remem- 
ber, too,  that  the  conduct  of  the  priests  themselves  is  not 
infrequently  open  to  the  severest  criticism.     Free  as  the 


lOO    GADDINCS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

intercourse  between  the  sexes  is,  we  have  nevertheless  to 
note  one  redeeming  quality,  the  sacred  hght  in  which  the 
marriage  vows  are  held.  Unrestrained  as  a  woman's  ca- 
reer may  have  been  before  her  marriage,  she  becomes  a 
dutiful,  hard-working  wife,  when  once  the  holy  knot  is  tied. 

As  in  certain  rural  districts  of  England  (the  North  and 
West),  where  formerly  women  usually  refrained  from  mar- 
rying until  they  were  on  the  eve  of  becoming  mothers, 
we  find  that,  on  an  average,  half  of  the  wives  of  Tyrolese 
peasants  have  had  children  before  their  wedding-day ; 
and  though  it  is  quite  tme  that  the  lover  very  rarely 
forsakes  the  mother  of  his  illegitimate  offspring,  and  ulti- 
mately marries  her,  we  must  not  ascri^  c  this  final  act  of 
justice  solely  to  the  good  feelings  of  the  male  culprit,  but 
rather  to  the  power  of  the  priest  over  the  mind  of  the 
sinner  confessing  his  guilt.  The  priest  it  is  who  urges 
him  to  set  right  an  old  wrong  by  marrying  the  girl  who 
but  for  the  absence  of  the  holy  bond  was  to  all  purposes 
his  wife ;  and  were  it  not  for  his  lively  pictures  of  ever- 
lasting tortures  in  a  certain  subterranean  abode  of  sinners, 
the  percentage  of  girls  abandoned  by  their  lovers  would 
be  far  greater  than  it  is. 

As  in  most  Roman  Catholic  countries,  the  Church  in 
Tyrol  counts  her  most  effective  and  devout  disciples  and 
followers  among  the  female  portion  of  the  inhabitants. 
The  simple  and  credulous  mind  of  the  ignorant  peasant- 
woman  acts  as  one  of  the  mainstays  and  supports  of  the 
whole  stmcture  of  absolution,  redemption,  or,  on  the  con- 
trary, eternal  damnation,  one  and  all  dependent  upon  the 
volition  of  a  mortal  man,  her  priest. 

It  is  only  in  the  course  of  the  last  twenty  or  thirty 
years  that  the  custom,  spread  throughout  the  country,  of 
"Fensterln"  or  "  Gasselgehen,"  —  the  introduction  of 
the  lover  into  the  bedroom  of  his  lass,  —  has  been  stopped 
in  the  three  or  four  larger  valleys,  while  in  the  rest  it  flour- 
ishes to  this  day. 

Priests  have  told  me  that  thirty  years  ago  the  custom 
of  sleeping  in  an  entirely  nude  state,  and  crowding  all  the 
members  of  the  family  into  one  bedroom,  was  the  con- 


PRIESTHOOD  AND  SUPERSTITION.  lOl 

stant  theme  of  their  discourses  from  the  pulpit ;  and  even 
nowadays  I  have  frequently  listened  to  sermons  of  some 
v>-ell-meaning  rural  priest,  the  subject  of  which  w^as  the 
necessity  of  washing  every  day  and  changing  one's  linen 
once  a  week.  Well  aware  that  sentiments  of  propriety 
are  foreign  to  the  minds  of  his  listeners,  the  priest  does 
not  base  his  exhortations  on  the  supposition  that  a  cle.vi 
face  once  a  day  and  a  clean  shirt  once  a  week  are  domes- 
tic comforts  necessary  to  the  equanimity  of  the  human 
mind,  but  rather  on  the  consideration  that  a  dirty  face 
and  filthy  shirt  are  obstacles  in  the  path  of  true  love. 
"  For  how,"  I  once  heard  a  loud-voiced  rural  priest  hold 
forth,  "  can  a  comely  girl  feel  herself  honored  with  the 
love  of  a  man  approaching  her  in  dirt-begrimed  clothes, 
emitting  an  effluvium  sufficient  to  knock  a  man  down  at 
ten  paces?"  The  worthy  pastor  was  in  this  instance  ur- 
ging the  necessity  of  abolishing  that  filthy  custom  of  the 
male  cowherds,  who  in  the  beginning  of  tlie  summer  leave 
their  native  village  for  the  more  elevated  pasturages,  and 
return  with  their  cattle  in  autumn,  having  the  same  shirt, 
unwashed  the  whole  five  or  six  months,  on  their  backs. 
The  dirtier  and  thicker  the  coat  of  filth  on  the  shirt,  the 
more  honorable  for  the  wearer ;  for  does  it  not  speak  for 
itself,  that  the  owner  has  been  in  the  mean  time  busy  and 
hard-worked  ?  This  custom,  I  am  happy  to  say,  is  con- 
fined to  those  valleys  where  male  cowherds  are  sent  up  to 
the  Alpine  pasturages,  and  it  is  now  fast  disappearing. 

It  is  in  this  way  that  the  priest  attains  his  object ;  and 
hundreds  of  instances  could  I  recite  of  this  indirect  and 
roundabout  manner  of  overcoming  prejudices  deeply 
rooted  in  the  hearts  of  the  people. 

Thirty  or  forty  years  ago  brutal  and  sanguinary  fights 
between  rivals  in  the  love  of  one  and  the  same  girl  were 
the  invariable  finish-up  of  fetes,  weddings,  christenings, 
and,  in  fact,  all  assemblies.  The  loss  of  the  nose,  an  ear, 
or  a  couple  of  fingers,  bitten  off  by  his  foe,  marked  the 
vanciuished  for  life.  The  still  more  brutal  act  of  scooping 
out  a  foe's  eye  —  by  a  jerk  of  the  thumb  —  was  at  one 
time  a  very  prevalent  abuse,  and  even  nowadays  in  one 


I02    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

or  two  valleys  this  barbarous  habit  still  exists,  though, 
thanks  to  the  strenuous  efforts  of  the  clergy,  it  is  far  less 
often  practiced.  Among  the  several  more  or  less  mis- 
chievous results  entailed  by  the  great  supremacy  of  the 
clergy,  the  gross  superstition  and  devout  belief  in  their 
supernatural  powers  are  about  the  most  harmful. 

The  two  following  instances  are  sufficient  to  substanti- 
ate my  statement,  and  show  how  solicitously  a  Tyrolese 
priest  will  "dress  up"  some  commonplace  event  in  the 
garb  of  a  semi-miracle,  and  how  by  hook  or  by  crook  he 
manages  to  impress  his  parishioners  with  his  power  to 
chanii  evil  spirits. 

Two  years  ago  a  certain  deformed  tailor  in  the  village 
of  Vomp  (near  Schwaz,  in  the  "  Unterinnthal ")  was 
attacked  by  a  somewhat  violent  fit  of  delirium  tremens, 
brought  on  by  too  liberal  potations  of  spirits  the  day  be- 
fore. His  family,  terribly  frightened  by  this  hitherto 
unknown  malady,  sent  for  the  village  doctor.  After  a 
protracted  examination  of  the  patient,  this  most  enlight- 
ened disciple  of  ^sculapius  declared  himself  incomipetent 
to  deal  with  the  mysterious  ailment.  All  he  could  do  was 
to  advise  the  immediate  attendance  of  the  priest. 

This  piece  of  advice  was  of  course  promptly  followed ; 
and  ten  minutes  later  the  priest  in  his  official  capacity, 
attended  by  two  acolytes  with  swinging  censer  and  holy- 
water  vessel  and  mop,  was  standing  at  the  bedside  of  the 
raving  hunchback. 

Grand  opportunity  to  work  a  miracle,  thought  the  holy 
man ;  and  forthwith  the  solemn  declaration  that  the  pa- 
tient was  possessed  of  the  Devil  made  the  assembled 
household  and  the  mob  standing  outside  the  house  shake 
and  tremble  in  their  shoes. 

The  room  was  cleared  of  the  gaping  and  frightened 
crowd ;  and  the  priest  began  his  course  of  recondite  exor- 
cising manipulations,  an  interesting  description  of  which 
is  furnished  in  the  following  literal  translation  of  an  ac- 
count (which  appeared  in  one  of  the  most  popular  local 
newspapers)  of  the  further  proceedings  of  the  Devil  while 
closeted   in   the  confines  of  a  narrow   chamber  with  a 


PRIESTHOOD  AND  SUPERSTITION.  103 

priest  armed  with  rosary  and  censer.  I  have  unfortu- 
nately to  refer  my  readers  to  this  piece  of  second-hand 
information,  as  very  naturally  no  mortal  but  a  clever 
editor  could  have  penetrated  the  veil  of  mystery  that 
clung  round  that  dire  eight-hours'  struggle. 

"  After  four  hours  of  uninterrupted  praying  and  decla- 
mation of  Latin  adjurations  and  exhortations  that  filled  a 
handy  '  Benedictiones '  prepared  for  like  occasions,  the 
holy  man,  faint  with  hunger,  i)roposed  to  leave  the  Devil 
for  an  hour  or  so  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  tailor, 
while  he,  the  holy  but  mortal  man,  ate  his  dinner.  This 
intention,  however,  was  not  carried  out,  for  with  a  hellish 
peal  of  scornful  laughter  the  evil  spirit  informed  him  that 
if  he  left,  he  —  the  Satanic  Majesty  —  would  take  per- 
petual possession  of  his  victim.  This  threat  of  course 
needed  a  firm  answer,  and  so  with  renewed  vigor  the 
holy  man  continued  his  exorcising. 

"  Four  hours  more  of  Latin  formularies,  hailed  down 
hard  and  fast  upon  the  Devil- possessed  patient,  at  last 
brought  his  Hellish  Majesty  to  bay,  and  with  one  discord- 
ant whoop  of  defiance  the  evil  visitor  took  his  departure 
through  the  window  opened  by  the  priest  for  this  purpose. 

"The  priest,  eager  to  close  the  casement,  and  thus  to 
make  a  return  of  his  vile  tormentor  impossible,  reached 
the  window,  and  was  just  about  to  sliut  it  when  a  large 
dog,  lying  in  the  courtyard  of  the  house,  set  up  a  howl, 
thereby  indicating  very  plainly  that  the  Devil,  unsuccess- 
ful in  other  quarters,  was  determined  to  get  somebody 
or  something  to  accompany  him  to  his  hellish  retreat. 
A  rifle  in  the  hands  of  the  master  of  the  house  speedily 
put  an  end  to  the  dog's  existence,  and  thus  his  Satanic 
Majesty  was  deprived  even  of  his  canine  victim. 

"  Eight  hours  of  unremitting  exhortation  were  needed 
to  drive  the  Evil  Spirit  from  that  God-forsaken  house. 

"  As  soon  as  the  miraculous  success  of  this  priest  be- 
came known  to  the  crowd  surrounding  the  house,  loud 
rejoicings  and  fervent  prayers  were  offered  up." 

Tl\e  next  Sunday  this  event  was  grandly  dilated  upon 
from  the  [julpil:,  and  after  service  numbers  of  holy  pic- 


I04    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

tures,  representing  the  heart  of  Jesus,  wreathed  round  by 
suitable  verses  and  hymns,  were  distributed  among  the 
parishioners. 

These  holy  amulets  against  a  second  visit  of  the  Devil 
were  nailed  to  the  house-door,  stable-door,  and  barn-door 
of  every  house  in  that  village  ;  and  since  then  the  popu- 
lation have  enjoyed  a  blissful  security  from  his  Satanic 
Majesty.  For  the  truth  of  this  event  in  all  its  details, 
save  those  of  course  that  occurred  in  the  sickroom,  I  can 
vouch,  as  I  was  present  and  saw  most  of  the  proceedings 
myself.  The  exact  date,  June  23,  1873.  Not  so  bad  for 
the  nineteenth  century,  my  readers  will  exclaim. 

The  second  instance  is  much  simpler  and  far  less 
wonderful. 

A  peasant  whose  fields  were  infested  with  the  grub  of 
the  cockchafer  (they  remain  three  years  in  their  cater- 
pillar state,  appearing  in  the  fourth  as  chafers)  complained 
to  the  priest  of  his  village  of  the  nuisance,  and  asked  his 
advice  how  to  get  rid  of  them.  It  seems  that  they  had 
already  been  doing  grievous  damage  to  his  wheat  and 
corn  for  three  years,  and  the  priest  on  hearing  these  de- 
tails found  himself  induced  to  promise  their  expulsion 
from  his  parishioner's  fields.  The  promise  of  a  couple 
of  sacks  of  corn  and  a  huge  wax  candle  to  the  Holy  Vir- 
gin no  doubt  had  something  to  do  with  the  priest's  readi- 
ness to  comply  with  the  peasant's  request.  Two  acolytes, 
a  basin  of  holy  water,  a  huge  mop  wherewith  to  sprinkle 
the  fields,  and  some  incense,  were  all  that  was  needed. 
On  the  termination  of  the  priest's  promenade  round  the 
ground  (his  holy  book  in  his  hand  and  two  acolytes 
swinging  the  censers  in  front  of  him)  he  declared  that 
next  spring  the  grubs  would  fly  away. 

And  really,  wonderful  to  say,  next  year  the  creeping 
grubs  took  wing  (as  cockchafers),  leaving  the  happy 
owner  of  their  playground  during  the  last  three  summers 
to  his  meditations  on  the  miraculous  power  of  holy  water 
and'  incense  in  the  hands  of  his  priest. 

A  recent  able  authoress  ^  has  given  a  rich  store  of  myths, 

I  "The  Valleys  of  Tirol,"  by  Miss  R.  II.  Busk. 


PRIESTHOOD  AND  SUPERSTITION.  105 

superstitions,  and  interesting  instances  of  what  the  Ger- 
mans call  '•  Volksaberglaube,"  the  superstition  of  the  pop- 
ulace in  Tyrol ;  but  there  still  remain  in  the  remote  parts 
of  the  country  odd  customs  displaying  a  devout  belief  in 
good  and  evil  spirits,  national  traits  which,  with  one  or 
two  exceptions,  have  not  yet  found  their  way  into  Eng- 
lish, nor,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  into  German  works  upon 
T}Tol.  Looking  down  the  long  list  of  these  customs, — 
we  might  call  them  relics  of  the  past,  —  I  find  that  most 
of  them  represent  precautionary  measures  against  evil 
spirits  in  general  and  the  Devil  in  particular.  I  must  pre- 
mise that  a  Tyrolese  peasant  ne\-er  mentions  the  word 
"  Teufel ;  "  to  him  any  word  is  better  than  "  Devil."  We 
therefore  find  him  called  the  Evil  One,  the  Black  One, 
the  Bad  Spirit,  or  the  "  Damned  One  ;  "  and  even  the  low 
oaths  used  by  the  Tyrolese  are  conspicuous  by  the 
absence  of  the  word  which  in  English,  French,  German, 
and  most  other  languages  is  a  common  imprecation.  I 
do  not  by  any  means  put  this  forward  as  a  laudable  char- 
acteristic of  the  Tyrolese  ;  for,  like  other  Roman  Catholics, 
they  will  make  profane  use  of  a  Name  which,  according 
to  our  English  feelings,  is  not  to  be  called  in  vain. 

I  merely  mean  to  say,  that  just  as  the  common  Tyrol- 
ese does  not  make  the  slightest  difference  between  Prot- 
estant and  Jew,  but  terms  every  non-Roman-Catholic  a 
Jew,  the  shunning  of  the  word  "  devil  "  illustrates  in  a 
remarkable  manner  that  dense  ignorance  on  religious 
matters,  which  is  deemed  by  the  clergy  the  best  safeguard 
against  any  repetition  of  those  dangerous  revolutions  in 
religious  matters  which  on  one  or  two  occasions  were 
near  overthrowing  the  old  faith.  Not  once,  but  a  hun- 
dred times,  have  T  been  struck  by  the  uneasy  glance 
around  and  behind  him,  when,  in  joke,  I  have  mentioned 
the  word  "  devil  "  to  a  rustic  inhabitant  of  some  remote 
little  village.  The  sign  of  the  cross  and  a  hasty  ejacula- 
tory  prayer  arc  on  such  occasions  supposed  to  be  the  only 
preservatives  against  an  immediate  appearance  of  the 
Evil  One  himself ! 

The  Tyrolese  peasant  connects  every  elementary  visi- 


io6    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

tation,  such  as  hail-storms,  Hghtning,  earthquakes,  heavy 
rains,  or  long  droughts,  with  the  evil  disposition  of  the 
Unholy  One,  or  sees  in  it  the  punishment  for  some  un- 
righteous act. 

Before  he  sows  his  field,  he  sprinkles  it  with  small  bits 
of  charcoal  consecrated  by  the  priest.  When  he  drives 
his  cattle  to  the  mountains,  his  Alp-hut  receives  the 
blessing  of  the  holy  man. 

When  his  cow  calves,  she  is  besprinkled  with  holy  water ; 
before  he  enters  an  untenanted  house,  he  goes  over  his 
rosary.  When  a  thunder-storm  is  approaching,  the  village 
bells  are  rung,  and  if  he  has  a  bell  on  his  house  —  well- 
to-do  peasants  in  the  fertile  valleys  very  often  hang  a  bell 
on  top  of  their  house,  to  call  to  their  meals  their  men  and 
women  servants  from  their  work  in  the  fields  —  it  is  set 
tolling  with  might  and  main.  The  object  of  the  ringing 
is  to  keep  off  or  charm  the  dreaded  lightning.  The 
peasant  population  have  in  this  safeguard  a  stanch  belief, 
which  is  not  shaken  even  if  the  lightning  strikes  that  or 
any  adjacent  house.  "  The  bell  has  been  bewitched," 
they  argue,  "  and  requires  to  be  re-consecrated." 

As  a  rule,  the  older  the  bell  of  chapel  or  church,  the 
more  efficacious  it  is  considered,  and  one  or  two  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  country  have  a  wide-spread  repute  as 
"  Wetterglocke,"  or  storm-bells.  You  often  will  hear  a 
peasant  express  regret  that  his  village  possesses  a  bell 
much  inferior  to  that  of  the  next  village,  and  add,  "  Oh, 
had  we  only  the  bell  of  Rodenegg  !  "  —  a  bell  enjoying 
the  highest  repute  as  a  lightning-charmer  throughout 
Tyrol. 

To  touch  a  person  killed  by  lightning,  before  the  priest 
has  spoken  a  short  prayer  over  the  body,  is  considered 
highly  dangerous. 

To  counteract  the  devastating  results  of  a  heavy  hail- 
storm, a  bunch  of  twigs  of  the  round-leafed  willow,  duly 
consecrated  on  Palm  Sunday  by  the  village  priest,  is  stuck 
on  a  pole  in  the  middle  of  the  field. 

On  Christmas  Eve  every  door  in  a  peasant's  house  is 
marked  with  three  small  crosses  in  chalk,  "  to  keep  out 
the  Evil  One,"  as  they  would  tell  you  if  you  asked  why. 


FEIESTHOOD  AND  SUPERSTITION.  107 

When  a  woodcutter  fells  a  tree  slightly  injured  by  light- 
ning, he  immediately  cuts  three  crosses  on  the  level  sur- 
face of  the  stump. 

To  wash  a  child  before  its  forehead  has  been  touched 
by  holy  water  (two  or  three  small  vessels  filled  with  it  are 
never  lacking  in  a  peasant's  dwelling),  is  highly  injurious 
to  it. 

To  pass  a  chapel,  roadside  shrine,  or  cross,  or  the 
wooden  beam  adorned  with  a  votive  tablet,  without  mak- 
ing the  sign  of  the  cross,  or  taking  off  your  hat,  is  con- 
sidered by  the  peasants  as  highly  improper ;  and  I  have 
known  men  turn  round  upon  me  with  an  expression  of 
anger  or  astonishment  depicted  upon  their  faces  when 
they  remarked  my  non-observance  of  this  custom. 

To  give  an  instance  of  the  peasant's  superstition 
respecting  lightning,  I  may  relate  here  an  incident  that 
occurred  to  me  a  year  or  two  ago. 

In  a  small  and  remote  village,  consisting  of  nine  or  ten 
houses  and  a  small  chapel,  the  priest  of  the  next  village, 
some  hours  off,  used  to  read  an  occasional  mass  for  the 
benefit  of  the  weak  and  decrepit  who  were  unable  to 
attend  the  distant  place  of  worship.  In  this  chapel  I  had 
discovered  four  very  remarkable  pictures  of  sacred  sub- 
jects painted  evidently  by  an  old  German  master  of 
repute. 

Though  eager  to  purchase  them,  I  knew  my  customer 
too  well  to  shovv^  any  great  wish  to  possess  them,  but 
broached  the  subject  by  offering  four  new  pictures  in 
their  stead.  My  offer  was  refused,  and  it  was  only  after  I 
had  doubled  the  price  I  had  previously  offered,  and  prom- 
ised to  pay  for  the  restoration,  viz.,  whitewashing,  of  the 
chapel,  that  the  owner  of  the  edifice  would  hear  of  part- 
ing with  the  dusty,  hardly  visible  old  paintings. 

A  week  later  I  had  returned  to  the  village  accompanied 
by  four  men,  who  carried  the  pictures  which  I  had  bought 
ni  the  mean  time  in  Innsbruck. 

Hardly  had  I  entered  the  peasant's  house  when,  to  my 
utter  astonishment,  he  told  me  that  he  could  not  possibly 
part  with  the  paintings  I  desired  so  much  to  possess. 


loS    CADDTNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

After  a  considerable  time  spent  in  talking,  I  discovered 
at  last  the  cause  of  the  sudden  refusal. 

It  seems  that  for  many  years  lightning  had  never  struck 
individual  or  house  in  that  village,  —  it  occupied  a  very 
elevated  plateau,  and  was  therefore  somewhat  exposed 
to  lightning,  —  and  now  that  his  neighbors  had  heard  of 
this  proposed  exchange,  they  had  united  their  voices  to 
urge  him  not  to  part  with  them.  "  It  is  just  these  pic- 
tures which  may  have  preserved  house  and  human  being 
hitherto ,  from  lightning,"  my  uncomfortably  superstitious 
vendor  informed  me.  All  talk  on  the  matter  was  useless  ; 
so,  as  a  last  remedy,  I  assembled  the  whole  nine  or  ten 
peasants  that  evening  in  the  wainscoted  low-roofed  chief 
room  of  the  owner  of  the  chapel.  My  persuasive  powers, 
however,  again  proved  useless,  and  next  day  I  had  to  re- 
turn to  more  civilized  quarters,  carrying  the  new  pictures 
back  with  me.  Naturally  I  was  greatly  vexed  at  my  dis- 
appointment and  the  loss  of  the  money  spent  on  the  pic- 
tures, which  now  —  they  all  represented  gaudily-painted 
saints,  or  the  Virgin  ]\Iary  in  various  poses,  in  heavy  gilt 
frames  —  were  for  the  time  quite  useless.  Fortunately, 
however,  I  kept  them,  and  did  not  give  them  away  as  I 
had  intended ;  for,  hardly  six  months  later,  a  flash  of 
lightning  fired  a  house  in  the  village,  and  killed  several 
head  of  cattle.  On  hearing  of  this  mishap,  I  knew  I 
had  won  the  game  ;  and  a  few  days  later  I  was  in  pos- 
session of  my  prizes. 

Had  I  got  the  pictures  the  first  time,  the  peasants 
would  have  said,  of  course,  that  my  exchange  had  brought 
about  this  untoward  event. 

In  Ultenthal,  —  to  give  an  instance  or  two  of  the  behef 
in  local  legends,  —  there  exist  at  the  present  moment 
the  ruins  of  the  strong  feudal  castle  of  Eraunsberg, 
founded  by  a  noble  of  that  name  in  the  early  part  of  the 
twelfth  century.  A  descendant  of  the  founder.  Knight 
Henry,  took  a  part  in  one  of  the  crusades  of  that  century, 
and  while  on  his  perilous  expedition,  undertaken,  as  we 
may  suppose,  for  the  redemption  of  a  soul  laden  with  a 
long  list  of  dark  crimes,  he  intrusted  his  beautiful  wife 
Jutta  to  the  care  and  protection  of  his  steward. 


PRIESTHOOD  AND  SUPERSTITION.  109 

The  latter,  handsome  Gimibert,  proved  himself  a 
shameless  Don  Juan.  The  virtue,  however,  of  fair  Jutta, 
somewhat  exceptional  in  those  days,  was  deeply  ingrafted 
upon  her  nature,  and  his  subtle  schemes  only  made  him 
the  object  of  her  scorn  and  disgust. 

Learning  that  his  master.  Knight  Henry,  had  returned 
from  his  dangerous  voyage,  and  was  but  a  day's  journey 
from  his  castle,  Gunibert  entered  his  mistress's  r' -amber, 
and  ruthlessly  tore  from  her  fair  hand  the  gage  of  love, 
the  wedding-ring. 

Mounting  a  fleet  steed,  he  left  the  casde,  and  met  the 
returning  hero  at  l!ie  beginning  of  the  valley.  Producing 
the  ring,  he  told  him  a  tale  of  such  base  and  calumnious 
defamation  of  his  wife's  virtue,  that  the  enraged  Count 
swore  he  would  cut  off  her  head. 

Jutta,  troubled  in  her  mind,  and  uncertain  what  to 
make  of  Gunibert's  violence,  mounted  the  steps  of  the 
high  watch-tower,  overhanging  a  terrible  abyss  at  the 
bottom  of  which  a  turbulent  torrent  boiled  and  seethed. 

All  of  a  sudden  she  perceived  a  large  train  of  armor- 
clad  nobles  and  men-at-arms,  headed  by  her  husband, 
riding  up  the  steep  incline  leading  to  the  gate.  At  the 
side  of  the  latter  rode  brazen-faced  Gunibert,  evidently 
bent  upon  impressing  his  noble  master  with  the  truth  of 
certain  facts. 

Her  quick  eye  guessed  the  whole  truth  of  the  faithless 
retainer's  revenge,  and  with  a  piercing  cry  she  precipi- 
tated herself  from  the  giddy  height  into  the  dark  abyss 
at  the  foot  of  the  tower.  Wonderful  to  say,  she  remained 
hanging  on  a  bush  which  none  had  ever  noticed  before, 
overlapping  the  caldron  of  foaming  water.  The  Count 
and  Gunibert,  riding  up  to  the  brink  of  the  precipice, 
saw  her  thus  suspended,  and  the  latter,  stricken  by  the 
hand  of  God,  threw  himself  into  the  water  hundreds  of 
feet  below  him. 

Even  now,  more  than  six  hundred  years  after  this 
tragic  event,  a  blue  flame  marks  the  spot  where  the 
treacherous  villain  was  drowned.  Beautiful  and  faithful 
Jutta,  saved  in  so  wonderful  manner  by  the  hand  of  God, 


no    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

accompanied  by  her  pious  husband,  who  was  overcome 
by  the  benevolence  of  his  Creator,  left  the  castle,  and 
entered  the  cloister  of  Weingarten,  in  Bavaria,  where 
they  ended  their  days  in  a  manner  befitting  this  remark- 
able event  in  their  lives. 

The  origin  of  the  name,  "Hilf  mir  Gott ! "  (God  help 
me  !),  of  a  castle  in  the  Munster  valley,  is  based  on  a 
similar  event.  A  noble  lass  imprisoned  in  the  castle  was 
one  day  made  the  object  of  the  vile  attempts  of  her 
captor.  Fleeing  from  his  arms,  she  mounted  the  steps 
of  the  tower,  and  when,  pursued  even  to  this  point,  she 
saw  no  means  of  escape,  saved  her  virtue  at  the  risk  of 
her  life  by  throwing  herself  from  the  giddy  height. 

Unharmed,  and  not  even  stunned,  she  reached  the 
ground  ;  and  her  pursuer,  overawed  by  this  miracle,  turned 
from  his  life  of  sin  and  iniquity,  and  became  a  penitent 
monk  in  a  monastery  close  by.  "  The  spot  is  frequently 
visited  at  night  by  a  spirit  clad  in  white,  and  encircled 
by  a  halo  of  subdued  light,"  added  the  simple  rustic  who 
narrated  this  legend  to  me. 

The  peasant  population  of  the  country  entertains  a 
firm  belief  in  legends  of  miracles  worked  by  supernatural 
powers  in  bygone  times ;  and  it  would  prove  highly  un- 
satisfactory to  endeavor  to  make  a  peasant  realize  the 
stupidity  and  incongruity  of  most  of  these  miracles. 


THE  VILLAGE  PRIEST,  m 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ALPINE   CHARACTERS  :    THE   VILLAGE   PRIEST. 

IN  much  the  same  way  in  which  philosophers  divide  the 
human  race  into  two  distinct  categories,  the  wicked 
and  the  good,  we  can  classify  the  fraternity  of  Tyrolese 
village  priests  with  a  view  to  their  religious  doctrines  and 
their  personal  merits,  under  two  distinct  heads,  the  lean 
and  the  stout. 

Unlike  many  speculations  apparently  less  vague,  we 
can  back  our  theory  with  facts  of  the  most  convincing 
description. 

Who,  for  instance,  has  ever  heard  a  portly,  red-faced 
Herr  Vicar  descant  from  the  pulpit  on  the  external  tor- 
tures of  hell,  in  the  fiery,  we  might  say  thermometrically 
impossible  flow  of  language  that  gushes  from  the  grim, 
viciously  compressed  lips  of  the  gaunt,  Jesuit-faced  Herr 
Cooperator,  priding  himself  upon  his  terribly  realistic 
language,  that  never  fails  to  instill  terror  into  the  hearts  of 
his  audience  ?  Who  was  ever  inveigled  to  demand  reli- 
gious consolation  at  the  hands  of  the  hypocritically  rigor- 
ous underling,  —  his  bony  figure,  from  his  lantern-jawed 
sallow  face  down  to  the  canonical  shafts  of  his  boots, 
wrapt  in  the  somber  folds  of  his  Jesuitical  garment,  —  who 
would  care  to  stake  his  peace  of  mind,  to  jeopardize  his 
happiness,  by  such  a  proceeding,  if  at  the  same  time  the 
jolly  and  benevolent  Herr  Vicar  were  at  hand  ? 

Does  not  his  good-humored  face,  beaming  with  good 
fare  and  better  wine,  inspire  confidence,  which  vanishes 
on  the  spot  as  we  turn  to  examine  the  exterior  of  his 
assistant? 


112    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

And  what  is  more  natural,  also,  than  that  the  plump, 
somewhat  plethoric  frame  of  the  portly  man  of  God, 
attired  in  the  shortest  of  clerical  coats,  —  a  standing  eye- 
sore of  his  petulant  confre?'es,  —  his  well-rounded  nether 
limbs  shrouded  by  the  tightest  pair  of  knee-breeches, 
should  hold  forth  to  the  sinner  desirous  to  free  his  con- 
science by  confession,  the  promise  of  a  hght  penance  ? 
Does  not  the  very  look  of  the  dapper  and  well-propor- 
tioned plump  calves  whose  outlines  are  visible  through 
the  black  cotton  stockings,  betoken  the  benevolence  of 
mind  of  which  the  hardened  sinner  stands  so  much  in 
need  ? 

Sins  whispered  into  the  ear  of  a  man  who  has  lost  sight 
of  his  knees  lose  much  of  their  heinousness  ;  and  absolu- 
tion is  far  more  easily  obtained  from  a  personage  of  well- 
rounded  proportions,  than  from  his  spare  brother,  whose 
cold,  keen,  glittering  eyes,  hidden  beneath  shaggy  brows, 
pierce  into  the  innermost  soul,  while  his  harsh  grating 
voice  instills  terror  as  the  most  terrific  threats  of  damna- 
tion and  everlasting  tortures  are  hissed  forth  from  the 
bloodless  and  cruel  lips  that  have  already  appalled  the 
unhappy  confessor  by  a  refusal  to  administer  absolution. 

No  playing  at  hide-and-seek  with  those  eyes,  my  poor 
fellow :  far  better  for  you  had  you  borne  your  sins 
silently,  than  lay  open  your  soul  to  the  machinations  of  a 
clever  but  unscrupulous  man  who  spares  no  threat,  who 
fears  but  the  God  of  the  Roman  Curia.  Such  men  as 
these  work  ruin  wherever  they  go.  Base  and  worthless  as 
are  their  maxims,  they  develop  an  energy  and  boldness 
of  thought,  incomprehensible,  did  we  not  know  that  they 
were  moved  by  religious  fanaticism  that  shrinks  from 
nothing,  if  an  end  favorable  to  their  Church  is  to  be 
attained. 

We  must  not  fancy  that  men  of  this  stamp  form  the 
majority.  Happily  there  are  many  very  worthy  priests 
among  the  rank  and  file  of  the  Catholic  Church.  We 
have  come  across  not  a  few  who  are  the  very  types  of 
good  and  conscientious  servants  of  God.  They  are  the 
fathers  of  their  villages,  respected  and  beloved  by  all,  ever 


THE  VILLAGE  PRIEST.  113 

eager  to  give  advice,  and  to  render  help  to  those  who  are 
in  need  of  it.  A  man  of  this  stamp  has  it  in  his  power 
to  work  no  end  of  good.  He  keeps  a  fatherly  eye  on 
the  young  generation,  advancing  their  healthful  pursuits, 
and  curbing  the  hot-spirited  rivalry  that  tends  to  lead 
them  into  excesses  of  every  kind.  His  parishioners  place 
the  utmost  confidence  in  him  ;  the  quarrelsome  among 
them  make  him  the  arbitrator  of  their  disputes,  which 
otherwise  would  end  in  costly  lawsuits  and  endless  feuds. 
It  is  a  pleasing  picture  to  watch  a  veteran  priest  on  his 
arduous  round  of  duties.  He  brings  consolation  and 
help  wherc\er  he  turns. 

The  very  fact  that  he  has  sprung  from  the  same  stock 
as  his  peasant  parishioners  carries  every  word  of  fatherly 
advice  he  utters  nearer  to  the  heart.  He  can  feel  with 
the  wTetchedly  clad  herd,  and  knows  the  ins  and  outs  of 
agricultural  life  ;  for  was  not  his  happy  youth  spent  on  his 
father's  alps,  tending  the  cattle  and  living  a  royal  life  of 
joyous  freedom?  It  is  true,  his  boyish  spirits  were 
crushed  out  of  him  by  the  monastic  discipline  in  the 
ecclesiastic  seminary  in  Brixen,  where  he  passed  eight 
weary  years  of  religious  drudgery.  But  unlike  so  many 
of  his  colleagues,  who  left  the  gloomy  walls  fully  imbued 
with  the  doctrines  of  Jesuitical  hypocrisy,  his  character, 
of  too  firm  a  mold  to  be  impressed  by  the  dangerous 
doctrines  to  which  he  had  to  lend  an  ear,  was  purified  by 
the  ordeal.  He  is  the  servant  of  God,  and  not,  as  the 
majority  of  his  brethren  are,  the  slave  of  the  Roman 
Curia.  He  has  the  interest  of  his  flock  at  heart,  rather 
than  the  .sordid  aggrandizement  of  his  Church. 

Wretchedly  paid  as  priests  are  in  T}to1,  —  the  income 
of  a  curate  averages  less  than  fourteen  pounds  per  an- 
num, his  lodging  and  food  being  found  for  him  by  his 
superior,  the  Vicar,  —  they  manage  to  do  a  deal  of  good 
with  the  pence  they  contrive  to  lay  by.  Their  wants  are 
of  the  most  modest  description  :  a  suit  of  clothes,  a 
couple  of  pairs  of  strong  iron-shod  boots,  a  new  vestment 
every  two  years,  and  a  few  florins  for  a  Sunday  glass  of 
wine  or  for  his  usual  evening  pipe,  will  be  all  a  curate  in 


114    GADDINGS  WITH  A   rRLMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

a  rural  district  needs.  The  Vicar's  income  is  double  or 
treble  that  of  his  assistant  priest,  and  is  materially  aug- 
mented by  the  numerous  fees  which  he  pockets,  generally 
for  work  done  by  his  wretchedly  under-paid  curate. 

Many  are  the  small  incomings  arising  from  christenings, 
funerals,  weddings,  and  processions  to  be  arranged  and 
led  to  distant  shrines,  while  newly-erected  chalets  call  for 
the  Church's  blessing  to  protect  them  from  the  Evil  One 
disguised  in  the  shape  of  terrific  avalanches.  Droves  of 
cattle,  prior  to  their  departure  for  their  summer  pastur- 
ages, also  require  —  no  less  than  their  bewitched  kindred, 
whose  loud  bellowing  and  vicious  plunging  at  unseasona- 
ble hours  betray  the  unhallowed  presence  of  some  super- 
natural power  —  the  cleansing  which  is  conferred  by  the 
holy-water  sprinkle.  There  are  urgent  cases,  both  of 
birth  and  death,  which  require  the  immediate  attention 
of  the  holy  man,  besides  sudden  calls  to  the  side  of 
some  wretched  woodcutter  who  has  been  fatally  injured 
while  at  work  up  high  on  the  mountain  slopes.  His  last 
moments  are  full  of  mental  anguish ;  for  his  fears  that 
absolution,  in  the  shape  of  the  priest,  will  come  too  late, 
and  that  he  has  to  perish  with  his  sins  unconfessed,  do 
not  allow  him  a  moment  of  rest.  Alone,  and  clad  in  his 
threadbare  old  garments,  the  faithful  servant  of  God  sets 
out  on  his  mission  of  mercy.  The  messenger  who  has 
brought  him  the  dire  news  is  faint  with  fatigue,  and  has  to 
rest  in  the  Vicarage.  With  broad  snow-hoops  on  his  feet, 
in  one  hand  his  staff,  in  the  other  his  lantern,  while  in  a 
bag  hung  over  his  shoulder  the  sacraments  are  concealed, 
he  sets  out  in  the  dead  of  night  on  his  weary  tramp  of 
many  hours.  Be  the  snowstorm  raging  never  so  hard,  be 
the  narrow  path  blocked  by  huge  masses  of  snow  four  and 
five  feet  in  depth,  he  does  not  shrink.  He  knows  that 
he  is  awaited  with  that  all-absorbing  anguish,  that  fearful 
doubt,  "  Will  he  come  in  time,  or  will  it  be  all  over  with 
me?"  He  quickens  his  steps,  his  exertions  are  re- 
doubled, to  be  rewarded  by  the  consciousness  of  having 
eased  a  dying  man's  last  hours,  and  by  that  one  look  of 
intense  gratitude  as  the  sick  man  perceives  him  entering 


THE    VILLAGE  PRIEST.  115 

the  chamber  of  death.  There  the  man  Hes,  just  as  he 
has  been  brought  in  from  the  scene  of  the  accident,  —  a 
giant  in  build,  with  sinews  and  muscles  of  steel.  Heart- 
rending it  is  to  watch  strong  nature  grapple  with  death. 
The  lighted  taper,  the  crucifix  at  his  side,  placed  there  at 
his  own  behest,  tells  us  that  hope  has  vanished  from  the 
stricken  wife  kneeling  at  his  side  bathed  in  tears.  His 
comrades,  rough  and  uncouth,  but  yet  with  big  hearts 
beating  within  their  coarse  and  tattered  coats,  crowd  to- 
gether in  one  of  the  corners  of  the  small  room.  Their 
last  sendee  to  their  comrade  has  been  accomplished : 
they  it  was  who  bore  him  down  on  their  backs  from  the 
fatal  scene.  We  hear  only  the  sobbing  of  the  sorrow- 
smitten  woman,  but  the  regular  motion  of  the  brawny 
hands  of  the  men  tells  us  that  they  are  praying  the  ros- 
ary for  the  soul  of  their  expiring  friend. 

The  door  creaks,  the  painful  silence  is  broken  by  the 
"  Gelobt  sei  Jesus  Christus  "  ("  Praised  be  Jesus  Christ  ") 
of  the  priest,  answered  by  the  usual  "  In  Ewigkeit,  Amen  " 
("In  Eternity,  Amen  ").  He  dips  his  fingers  into  the 
receptacle  for  holy  water  hung  up  near  the  door,  and 
the  rough  men  bow  their  heads  as  he  makes  the  sign  of 
the  cross.  He  approaches  the  two  benches,  upon  which, 
propped  by  a  pillow,  lies  the  injured  man.  A  glance  at 
the  drawn  face,  at  the  moist  forehead,  at  the  eager  look 
of  the  eye,  as  yet  conscious  and  clear,  tells  him  that  he 
did  well  to  hurry  his  steps. 

He  motions  the  assembled  crowd  to  leave  the  room ; 
and  the  heavily-shod  men,  uncouth  in  appearance,  un- 
accustomed to  any  pace  but  the  heaviest  tramp,  comply 
on  tiptoe,  followed  l)y  the  sobbing  women  of  the  next  cot- 
tage, who  have  come  to  comfort  the  poor  sorrowing  wife. 

The  eager  eyes  of  the  dying  man  are  bent  upon  her 
who  has  sunk  dov\^n  on  her  knees  at  his  bedside ;  the 
priest  touches  her  on  her  shoulder,  and  she,- poor  woman, 
well  knows  the  meaning :  a  last  fond  glance,  a  last  cm- 
brace,  and  the  bereaved  wife  totters  out  of  the  chamber 
of  death. 

'i'he  priest  now  kneels  down  at  the  side  of  the  rough 


Il6    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

couch,  and  bends  low  to  bring  his  ear  close  to  the  mouth 
of  the  dying  man.  He  lies  gasping  for  breath,  his  broad 
strong  chest  crushed  out  of  shape  by  that  cruel  trunk  of 
the  tree  he  had  just  felled  :  articulation  was  impossible 
from  the  first. 

Poor  fellow,  not  even  of  that  last  solace,  to  cheer  his 
dying  moments,  can  he  partake.  His  glittering,  restless 
eyes  are  fixed,  with  a  look  piteous  to  behold,  on  those  of 
the  priest,  while  his  trembling  fingers  endeavor  to  hold 
the  beads  of  the  rosary.  His  look,  so  beseeching  in  its 
expression,  is  understood  by  the  man  kneeling  beside 
him.  The  absolution  is  granted,  and  the  last  sacrament 
is  offered,  and  received  by  the  poor  sufferer.  He  who 
a  few  minutes  before  was  the  picture  of  a  sinner  dying  a 
hard  and  tortuous  death,  now  presents  the  calm  features 
of  a  man  who  has  closed  with  life,  and  looks  forward  to 
death  with  peace  of  mind  traced  in  every  line  of  his  face. 
The  anxious  fire  in  his  eyes  has  expired  :  he  closes  them 
wearily,  and  sinks  back  on  his  pillow  with  a  heavy  sigh. 
The  solemnly-intoned  prayer  of  the  priest  accompanies 
the  fleeting  soul. 

He  rises  after  some  time,  and,  assuring  himself  that  the 
man  is  really  dead,  proceeds  to  inform  the  wretched  wife 
that  her  husband  died  a  penitent  sinner.  He  opens  the 
door,  and  there,  crowding  the  narrow  passage,  are  kneel- 
ing the  dead  man's  comrades,  devoutly  praying  for  the 
salvation  of  his  soul.  It  is  a  solemn  picture ;  the 
shaggy  heads,  visibly  betraying  the  rough  wild  life  they 
lead,  bent  on  the  broad  massive  breasts,  covered  by 
naught  but  a  shirt  and  a  tattered  coat,  both  open  in  front, 
displaying  the  hairy,  mahogany-hued  chest,  their  hands 
crossed  over  it,  one  holding  the  hat  adorned  with  that 
mark  of  bold  youth  striving  for  championship  in  love  and 
war  —  the  feather  of  the  blackcock  —  while  in  the  other 
is  clasped  the  rosary.  A  flickering  pine-torch  fixed  into 
some  chink  in  the  wall  throws  a  ruddy  glow  over  the 
scene.  The  priest,  standing  in  the  doorway  with  the 
door  in  his  hand,  announces  to  them  their  comrade's 
death  ;  and  one  by  one,  after  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
the  men  rise. 


THE    VILLAGE  PRIEST.  n? 

While  the  priest  proceeds  into  the  kitchen  close  by, 
where  the  wretched  woman  is  sitting  Avith  her  hands  before 
her  face,  while  her  two  little  children,  alarmed  by  their 
mother's  grief,  are  tearing  at  her  dress,  the  men  re-enter 
the  room  where  their  dead  companion  is  lying.  One  of 
them  steps  up  to  the  couch,  places  his  hat  at  the  foot  of 
it,  and,  after  putting  into  it  a  couple  of  pieces  of  money, 
retires  to  the  corner  of  the  room  without  saying  a  word. 
His  comrades  follow  his  example  ;  and  each  gives,  not 
what  he  can  spare,  for  that  none  of  them  could,  but  what 
his  kindly  heart  prompts  him  to  sacrifice  at  the  shrine  of- 
true  benevolence. 

When  the  priest  returns,  followed  by  the  widow,  one  of 
them  hands  the  hat,  containing  perhaps  not  more  than  ten 
or  twelve  shillings,  to  her ;  and  she  receives  it  with  expres- 
sions of  deep  gratitude.  Small  as  the  amount  is,  it  is 
worth,  in  the  eyes  of  one  who  metes  charity-gold  not  by 
the  value  a  sinful  world  bestows  on  it,  the  thousands  and 
ten  thousands  of  pounds  which  the  rich  man  expends 
upon  some  so-called  charitable  purpose  without  ever 
once  feeling  the  loss.  With  one  of  these  poor  fellows,  a 
couple  of  florins  given  away  means  no  less  than  depriving 
himself  of  a  pair  of  shoes,  of  a  new  coat  to  take  the  place 
of  the  tattered  old  garment  which  has  ceased  to  keep  out 
the  wind  and  the  rain,  or  of  a  couple  of  pounds  of  flour 
and  lard  a  week  short  of  the  usual  ration. 

Let  us  turn  av.-ay  from  this  sad  picture,  and  follow  the 
steps  of  our  friend  the  Co-operator,  as  he  follows  the 
urgent  call  of  an  anxious  father,  to  perform  the  Noth 
Taufe  upon  his  newly-born  baloe.  I  must  premise  that 
the  simple  people  of  Tyrol  and  the  neighboring  moun- 
tainous countries  believe  that  a  child,  as  long  as  it  is  not 
christened,  is  an  iniidel,  and,  were  it  to  die  wiUiout  that 
sacred  rite,  its  soul  would  go  straight  down  into  hell. 
Therefore  a  child  is  generally  christened  the  very  day  it 
is  bom,  or  at  the  latest  the  second  day,  —  a  proceeding 
not  at  all  conducive  to  the  health  of  the  poor  little  being. 

Very  often  the  child  has  to  be  carried  for  hours  in  the 
bitterest  cold,  in  rain  and  wind,  to  the  parish  church ; 


1 1 8    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

for  children  will  be  born  even  in  winter,  when  snow 
blocks  up  all  communication.  In  its  little  basket,  with 
a  coverlet  insufficient  to  protect  it,  the  babe  is  exposed 
to  the  inclemencies  of  the  rough  Alpine  clime.  It  is 
only  when  the  child  is  ill  from  the  moment  of  its  birth, 
and  can  not  possibly  outlive  the  journey,  that  the  parents, 
who  entertain  a  great  horror  of  its  dying  before  the  holy 
rite  can  be  enacted,  send  off  a  messenger  in  hot  haste  to 
fetch  the  priest,  and  the  christening  is  performed  at 
home. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night,  in  snowstorm  or  rain,  it  is 
all  the  same,  Duty  calls,  and  the  unfortunate  Co-operator 
has  to  leave  his  warm  room  to  face  the  worst  of  weather. 
After  a  weary  march  of  many  hours,  the  priest  finally 
reaches  his  destination ;  the  child  is  taken  from  its  little 
bed,  where  since  its  birth  it  has  been  lying  quite  neg- 
lected, to  await  the  arrival  of  the  priest ;  for  in  many 
remote  districts  the  mother  is  not  allowed  to  give  the 
poor  thing  the  breast,  it  being  the  belief  of  the  supersti- 
tious people,  that  to  nourish  a  heathen  is  an  unatonable 
crime. 

After  the  ceremony  is  duly  performed  by  the  holy  man, 
the  nurse  takes  the  child  back  to  its  mother,  handing  it  to 
her  with  the  words,  — 

"  A  Jew  we  took  away,  and  a  Christian  we  bring  back 
to  you." 

This  strange  saying  is  very  common  in  the  eastern  dis- 
tricts of  Tyrol,  but  specially  in  the  mountains  of  Styria. 

It  is  by  no  means  uninteresting  to  examine  the  various 
local  legends  as  to  the  fate  of  the  unfortunate  infant's 
soul  should  it  die  unchristened. 

In  the  Innvalley,  and  some  of  its  remote  branch  valleys, 
"  Berchd  "  —  a  good  spirit  supjjosed  to  be  Pontius  Pilate's 
wife  —  fetches  the  children,  and  trains  them  to  accompany 
her  on  her  weird  journeys. 

In  many  parts  of  South  Tyrol  it  is  commonly  thought 
that  after  their  death  they  are  carried  off,  and  have  to 
float  betwixt  heaven  and  earth  till  doomsday.  In  other 
parts,  again,  they  are  brought  into  the  ante-chamber  of 
the  Evil  One's  habitation  in  hell. 


THE    VILLAGE  PRIEST.  119 

In  the  western  parts  of  the  country,  again,  the  popular 
behef  metamorphoses  them  into  uncanny  beings  inhabit- 
ing the  inside  of  certain  peaks  ;  while  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Pasterzenthal  will  tell  you  that  unbaptized  children  will 
form  the  stock  of  a  new  set  of  beings,  peopling  a  world 
that  is  to  be  created  after  the  Day  of  Judgment. 

In  the  Isel  valley,  and  one  or  two  neighboring  glens, 
these  unfortunate  beings  are  supposed  to  change  into 
angels  of  an  inferior  class  ;  "  for  no  proper  spirited  angel," 
as  I  was  once  told  by  an  old  woman,  "  will  associate  with 
them,  they  having  sprung  from  a  heathenish  stock." 

A  diligent  explorer  could  collect  a  score  or  more  of 
the  various  local  legends,  every  one  of  which  will  differ 
from  the  rest  in  some  material  point. 

If  the  habitation  of  the  peasant  to  whom  the  priest 
has  been  called  to  perform  the  rites  of  the  "  baptism  in 
need  "  lies  far  away  from  the  village,  the  priest  will  com- 
bine with  the  christening  the  ceremony  of  "aussegnen," 
i.e.,  "  churching  the  woman."  Usually  this  is  done  on 
the  third  or  fourth  day  after  the  woman's  confinement, 
and  in  most  localities  she  dare  not  show  herself  in  pub- 
lic before  she  has  been  "  cleansed  "  by  the  priest's  hand. 
Very  strange  customs  are  observed  on  these  occasions, 
most  of  which  show  how  deeply  superstitious  belief  in 
the  omnipotent  powers  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  is 
ingrafted  in  the  minds  of  the  simple  people. 

Peasants  usually  name  the  child  according  to  their 
almanac  :  thus  if  a  girl  is  born  on  the  day  of  St.  Jacob, 
a  male  saint,  the  parents  will  often  change  the  name  into 
Jacobina,  and  vice  versa  Cecilia  into  Cecilius. 

It  is  amazing  to  see  what  stress  is  laid  on  that  quaint 
remnant  of  mediaeval  times,  the  peasant  almanac,  a  book 
made  on  the  supposition  that  reading  is  an  unknown  art. 
To  a  stranger,  the  mysterious  signs  printed  in  red  and 
black  ink,  unexplained  by  a  single  word,  are  totally  in- 
comprehensible. Let  us  inquire  their  meaning  of  a 
friendly  village  priest.  We  hear  first  of  all  that  the  small 
black  triangles  are  the  week-days,  the  red  ones  Sundays 
and  /r/^-days.     We  ask.  Why  are  not  the  names  of  the 


I20    CADDINGS  Wrril  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

da3's  given  ?  the  priest  tells  us,  Because  the  peasant  does 
not  reckon  according  to  them.  Monday,  Tuesday, 
Wednesday,  etc.,  are  names  which  are  unknown  to  him. 
He  computes  time  according  to  the  numberless  saints,  to 
each  one  of  whom  a  day  is  dedicated. 

Every  one  of  the  hundred  and  twenty-six  saints  enu- 
merated in  the  peasant's  almanac  (they  are  dispersed 
pretty  equally  over  each  of  the  twelve  months)  is  repre- 
sented by  a  small  picture,  about  half  an  inch  square, 
depicting  the  saint  with  some  distinctive  mark  or  sign, 
enabling  a  person  versed  in  almanac  lore  to  recognize 
hirn  at  a  glance,  and  thus  doing  away  with  the  names 
which  would  take  up  space,  and  which  moreover  could 
not  be  deciphered.  We  see  St.  Paul's  Day  represented 
by  a  man  on  horseback,  stretching  out  his  left  hand,  the 
rays  of  a  huge  sun  striking  him  on  the  head.  Palm  Sun- 
day is  marked  by  a  figure  astride  of  a  donkey,  with  a 
twig  of  a  palm,  larger  than  both  beast  and  rider,  in  his 
right  hand.  St.  Romedius  is  portrayed  as  a  bear  walking 
on  his  hind  legs,  and  carrying  with  his  front  paws  a  huge 
barrel.  St.  Peter  is  represented  by  a  key  ;  St.  Alexius  by 
a  ladder ;  St.  John  by  a  cottage,  with  smoke  issuing  from 
the  chimney ;  St.  Gallus  by  an  exceedingly  seedy-looking 
bishop ;  St.  Timothy  by  a  vicious  dog ;  St.  Vitus  by  a 
caldron ;  and  St.  Stephen  by  a  sheaf  of  arrows. 

But  there  are  other  quaint  signs  and  mysterious  marks 
on  that  strange-looking  sheet  of  paper.  The  peasant  is 
not  only  told  when  the  sun  and  moon  rise  and  set,  but 
the  almanac  also  prophesies  the  state  of  the  weather. 
A  series  of  strange  signs  is  devoted  to  meteorology.  A 
hand  indicates  cold  ;  a  mouth,  wind ;  a  pitcher  means 
rain  ;  a  hat  indicates  warm  weather ;  a  wheel,  sunshine  ; 
a  black  square,  snow ;  an  arrow,  thunder ;  a  pyramid,  an 
overcast  sky ;  while  a  cross  inside  of  a  wheel  means  clear 
weather. 

Coming  to  the  various  household  offices  of  peasant 
life,  we  find  that  in  these  matters  also  the  almanac  is  the 
peasant's  stanch  friend  and  adviser.  It  tells  him  when 
to   use   the  plow,  by  marking  the  day  with  the  picture 


THE    VILLAGE  PRIEST.  121 

of  tint  implement;  when  to  sow,  by  a  clover-leaf;  when 
to  manure  his  fields,  by  a  pitchfork ;  when  to  cut  wood, 
by  a  hatchet ;  and  finally  it  tells  him  when  to  have  his 
hair  cut,  by  a  pair  of  scissors. 

Besides  all  these  enigmatical  hieroglyphics,  the  twelve 
signs  of  the  zodiac  turn  up  every  second  or  third  day : 
they  are  of  no  mean  importance,  for  the  peasant  stanchly 
believes  in  their  influence  upon  the  fate  of  his  progeny. 
A  child  born  in  the  sign  of  the  lion  must  needs  turn  out 
strong  and  healthy.  A  cow  calving  for  the  first  time  in 
the  sign  of  the  twins  is  considered  thenceforth  a  good 
breeding  animal.  Marriages  are  rarely  contracted  in  that 
of  the  Virgin.  And  so  on,  to  every  one  of  the  signs  of 
the  zodiac  the  peasant  attaches  some  hidden  meaning. 

It  is  but  natural  that  I  should  have  come  across  odd 
characters  among  the  countless  country  priests  with  whom 
I  chanced  to  meet  in  the  course  of  my  wanderings.  Shut 
out  from  the  world,  and  having  no  intellectual  intercourse 
whatever,  they  are  left  solely  to  their  own  resources  ;  for 
the  schoolmaster,  proficient  as  he  is  in  instilling  the  ABC 
into  the  wooden  heads  of  his  scholars,  is  at  best  a  sad 
ignoramus  on  all  matters  beyond  the  rudiments  of  read- 
ing and  writing,  and  does  not  invite  cultivation.  The 
four-o'clock  morning  mass  in  summer,  or  the  six-o'clock 
one  in  winter,  once  read,  the  rest  of  the  long  day  till 
evening  lies  as  a  heavy  drag  upon  the  priest's  hands.  It 
is  therefore  not  strange,  that  men  of  this  caliber  are  apt 
to  cultivate  special  hobbies  of  their  own  with  ardent  zeal. 
One  man  will  people  his  modest  little  habitation  with 
flocks  of  birds,  imprisoned  in  cages  of  artistic  shape  made 
by  himself;  one  will  roam  about  the  mountains,  on  hot 
summer  days,  with  a  big  canvas  bag  across  his  shoulder, 
in  search  of  ant-hills  to  despoil  of  their  contents  for  the 
delectation  of  his  noisy  flock ;  or  maybe  one  is  of  a 
mechanical  turn  of  mind,  leading  him  to  excel  in  carv- 
ing in  wood,  or,  as  I  know  in  one  or  two  instances,  he 
will  be  a  proficient  in  the  art  of  manufacturing  church- 
organs  of  primitive  make.  Others,  again,  are  great  in 
gardening  :  they  set  the  boldest  climbers  in  their  villages 


122    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

to  get  them  the  rarest  Alpine  plants,  which  they  reset  in 
the  tidy  little  patches  of  garden  in  front  of  their  modest 
cottages.  Their  colleague,  again,  v/ill  make  the  dairy  and 
cowshed  his  hobby,  taking  no  Uttle  pride  in  the  fine  herd 
of  catde  he  calls  his  own.  He  will  don  his  frieze  coat, 
and,  maybe,  wear  his  short  leather  breeches  and  green 
stockings,  when  he  leads  his  herd  up  to  the  Alps,  taking 
a  tender  farewell  from  each  one  of  his  speckled  pets  when 
duty  compels  him  to  return  to  his  human  flock  far  down 
in  the  valley  at  his  feet. 

A  good  story  is  told  of  one  of  these  dairy  priests,  who, 
in  his  eagerness  to  visit  his  favorites  on  the  distant  Alps, 
v/as  in  the  habit  of  putting  on  the  village  church  clock  for 
an  hour,  on  fine  summer  mornings,  to  the  bewilderment  of 
his  peasant  congregation,  who,  of  course,  on  these  occa- 
sions, came  too  late  for  morning  mass ;  till  one  day  he 
found  out  that  his  trick  had  been  discovered,  and  the 
tables  turned  upon  him  by  his  parishioners.  They  had 
posted  a  boy  in  the  steeple,  and  v.-hen  he  saw  the  priest 
issuing  from  his  house,  bent  upon  his  nefarious  plans,  the 
boy  put  back  the  clock  for  exactly  the  same  time  that  the 
priest  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  it  on,  and  the  proceed- 
ing led  to  a  ludicrous  dcnoi^ment. 

This  man  was  a  great  cattle-fancier ;  and  Avhen,  in  the 
latter  years  of  his  life,  he  was  advanced  to  a  higher  post, 
he  used  to  give  prizes  to  further  cow-fighting,  —  a  sport 
much  in  vogue  fifty  years  ago,  in  which  the  strongest 
cows  of  rival  villages  were  pitted  against  each  other. 

His  neighbor,  again,  will  look  with  contempt  upon  the 
doings  of  his  worldly-minded  colleague,  and  make  the 
artistic  embellishment  of  his  church  his  aim  in  life.  He 
vv'ill  carve  figures,  or  cut  out  and  make  up  artificial  flowers 
for  shrines,  with  a  skill  and  diligence  truly  astonishing. 
It  is  his  highest  ambition  to  adorn  the  whitewashed  inte- 
rior of  his  modest  church,  so  that  it  may  compare  favora- 
bly with  those  of  his  colleagues.  He  will  willingly  sacrifice 
half  of  his  quarter's  income  to  purchase  a  couple  of  new 
wigs,  with  long  flowing  curis,  for  the  two  life-size  statues 
of  the  Holy  Virgin.     He  will  walk  his  legs  off  to  collect 


THE    VILLAGE  PRIEST.  1 23 

a  sufficient  sum  for  a  new  silk  bodice  (these  sacred 
images  are  dressed  and  undressed  like  helpless  invalids, 
and  ihcy  ha\-e  different  changes  of  apparel  for  holidays, 
according  to  their  superlative  sacredness),  or  for  a  vel- 
vet skirt  looped  up  with  sashes  and  paste  pearls.  With 
his  own  fingers,  he  will  trim  the  newevery-day  dress  of  the 
Virgin  Mary  with  the  gold  lace  and  the  despoiled  finery 
of  her  second-best  raiment,  which,  after  having  done  good 
service  for  ten  or  fifteen  years,  is  shorn  of  the  best  part 
of  its  finery,  and  forthwith  degraded  to  shroud,  for  tlie 
future,  the  limbs  of  some  less  demonstrative  saint. 

Other  priests,  of  less  ambitious  sentiments,  are  in- 
thralled  by  the  spirit  of  antiquarianism.  They  visit  their 
parishioners'  huts,  and  turn  over  their  contents  from  gar- 
ret to  cellar,  and  when  they  have  completed  the  round  they 
will  begin  afresh,  and  work  them  through  over  and  over 
again.  Generally  they  will  coniine  themselves  to  pictures, 
and  it  is  astonishing  to  see  v/hat  a  life-long  search  will 
manage  to  collect  in  the  way  of  canvas  coated  with  paint. 

The  collector  has  been  at  some  time  priest  in  perhaps 
three  different  villages,  and  in  each  has  amassed  a  rich 
hoard,  piles  upon  piles,  of  the  most  fearful  daubs  ever 
seen.  The  majority  of  them  are  "portraits"  of  saints, 
with  a  goodly  number  of  pictures  representing  episodes  in 
the  life  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  put  in  as  a  change. 

Kere  we  see  her  arrayed  in  superb  finery,  with  strings 
of  pearls,  and  a  jevvelled  crown  on  her  head,  reminding 
one  of  our  own  Virgin  Queen  as  she  is  depicted  by  her  con- 
temporaries. Her  heart,  painted  somewhere  in  the  region 
of  the  pit  of  the  stomach,  is  of  the  size  of  a  bullock's  and 
is  pierced  by  seven  dagger-like  swords,  but  the  ghastly 
smile  that  is  on  her  face  betrays  any  thing  but  pain. 

Then,  again,  she  is  portrayed  attired  in  flowing  robes, 
holding  Jesus  in  her  arms,  surrounded  by  a  wreath  of 
beings  supposed  to  represent  angels,  but  who  are  far  more 
like  devils  incarnate,  nothing  but  the  tails  and  the  cloven 
feet  being  wanting  to  complete  the  likeness. 

Here  we  find  her  painted  as  a  Chinese  beauty,  with 
slit  eyes,  and  an  olive   complexion.      Dozens   of  Saint 


124     GADDINGS  V/ITII  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Georges,  Michaels,  and  Josephs,  with  a  couple  of  Sainf 
Florians,  holding  huge  pails  of  molten  silver  (to  repre- 
sent water)  in  their  hands,  are  stacked  in  one  corner  of 
the  room. 

The  most  astounding  positions  of  the  human,  or  rather 
of  the  saintly  body,  the  strangest  scenes  in  mortal  life, 
the  oddest  anachronistic  mistakes,  are  here  displayed. 

We  turn  to  another  pile,  and  come  upon  hell  with  all 
its  horrors.  The  most  terrific  scenes  of  diabolical  tor- 
tures curdle  our  blood.  Here  we  see  wretches  pulled  slowly 
to  pieces  by  men  handling  huge  red-hot  pincers.  Then 
we  see  heaps  of  arms,  legs,  noses  and  ears,  as  a  sort  of 
background  to  a  scene  depicting  the  process  of  boiling 
some  miserable  creatures  in  caldrons  of  molten  lead. 
There  we  see  women  pinned  down  to  the  ground,  being 
maimed  and  tortured  in  the  most  diabolical  manner  by  a 
set  of  grinning  \vTetches. 

Whatever  be  the  faults  of  these  pictures,  they  certainly 
betray  an  amazing  power  of  imagination  on  the  part  of 
the  artists. 

The  house  is  filled  from  top  to  bottom,  and  woe  to  you 
if  you  have  been  inveigled  into  the  remark  that  you  are 
somewhat  of  a  connoisseur  in  paintings  !  The  happy 
c  nerwill  show  you  Rembrants,  Raphaels,  Uurers,  in  fact, 
masterpieces  of  all  the  great  masters  of  the  last  three  or 
four  centuries. 

"This  picture,"  he  will  tell  you,  "  I  got  from  a  peasant 
for  christening  his  baby  son  ;  "  "That  there,  in  part  pay- 
ment of  the  marriage-fee  of  a  young  fellow  who  had 
inherited  it  from  his  grandfather,"  and  so  on.  Every 
picture  has  a  name  and  a  history  of  its  own. 

Now  and  again  you  pitch  upon  a  passable  daub,  and 
ten  years  ago  genuine  works  of  great  masters  could  be 
found  among  these  accumulations  of  rubbish.  We  know 
of  three  instances  where  masterpieces  were  bought  or 
exchanged  from  collecting  priests,  who,  ignorant  of  their 
value,  gave  them  away  for  an  old  song.' 

_  I  One  was  a  Holbein  of  great  beauty,  the  second  an  Albrecht  Diirer,  and  the 
third  a  masterpiece  of  Martin  Schon. 


THE    VILLAGE  PRIEST.  125 

Not  every  priest,  however,  has  the  means  to  cultivate  a 
hobby,  be  it  never  so  economical  a  one.  Some  are  so 
poor  that  they  have  scarce  enough  to  provide  a  decent 
coat  for  their  backs  and  a  stout  pair  of  boots  for  their 
feet.  The  parish  is  excessively  poor,  and  probably  hid 
away  in  the  recesses  of  the  Alps,  four  or  five  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

Here  it  is  that  the  good  qualities  of  the  lonely  curate 
appear  to  advantage.  I  once  got  to  know  a  man  of  this 
stamp.  The  village,  or  rather  the  hamlet,  in  which  he 
resided,  was  even  too  poor  to  keep  an  inn  going.  A  barrel 
or  so  per  annum  of  beer  or  sour  wine  sufficed  for  the 
wants  of  the  wretchedly  reduced  inhabitants.  My  friend 
set  up  shop  as  innkeeper,  laying  in  a  barrel  of  wine  and 
one  of  schnapps.  I  remember  well  the  amazement  of 
another  friend,  in  whose  company  I  visited  the  village, 
to  find  that  the  good-humored  burly  host,  who  attended 
us  in  his  shirt-slccves  and  short  leather  breeches  and 
green  stockings,  was  no  other  than  the  village  priest. 

Intending  to  start  at  an  early  hour  on  the  morrow,  we 
informed  the  reverend  host  that,  if  it  were  possible,  we 
would  like  to  have  our  breakfast  at  three  or  half-past 
three  the  next  morning. 

Our  host  eyed  us  for  a  minute  or  two  in  a  doubtful  "^  rt 
of  way,  and  then  informed  us  that  either  we  should  have 
to  start  an  hour  later,  and  attend  the  four-o'clock  mass, 
or  we  could  leave  at  any  time  we  chose,  without  our 
breakfast. 

"It  would  be  a  sin  to  eat  breakfast  before  mass,"  said 
he,  and  thus  he  really  compelled  us  to  earn  our  breakfast 
by  attending  service. 

The  ceremony  over,  and  the  vestment  exchanged  for 
the  simpler  raiment  he  had  worn  the  night  before,  our 
host  placed  our  breakfast  before  us,  and  when,  after  pay- 
ing our  bill,  which  for  both  our  suppers  and  breakfasts 
and  our  room  came  to  a  sum  total  of  less  than  ninety 
kreutzers  (about  one  and  ninepencc),  we  took  our  de- 
parture, our  host  volunteered  to  show  us  the  path  as  far 
as  the  height  of  the  pass.     Before  we  parted  from  our 


126    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   rRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

good-natured  guide,  he  showed  us  the  interior  of  a  way- 
side shrine  built  on  this  elevated  point.  Within  the 
chapel  there  was  a  table,  and  upon  it  lay  a  pile  of  sacred 
pictures  painted  in  gaudy  colors.  A  board  over  it  in- 
formed pious  passers-by,  that  by  putting  a  kreutzer  (far- 
thing) into  the  poor-box,  they  became  entitled  to  take  a 
paint.  Our  guide  informed  us,  with  evident  pride,  that 
there  had  never  been  one  stolen,  as  long  as  he  remem- 
bered. 

Some  change  from  their  arduous  round  of  duty  is 
afforded  to  priests  by  processions  which  they  have  to 
lead  to  distant  shrines,  when  any  disaster  in  the  shape  of 
rain,  droughts,  avalanches,  or  other  elementary  danger, 
threatens  to  overtake  their  villages.  Very  ludicrous  inci- 
dents frequently  occur  at  these  sacred  meetings.  There 
are,  for  instance,  certain  shrines  renowned  for  their  quali- 
ties as  weather  shrines ;  i.e.,  that  any  prayer  for  rain  or 
for  dry  weather  is,  if  properly  inaugurated  by  munificent 
sacrifices,  sure  to  be  heard  by  the  deity  having  command 
over  these  two  branches  of  heavenly  rule. 

Not  very  many  years  ago,  two  processions  from  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  country  met  at  one  of  these  chamied 
spots.  The  members  of  the  one  prayed  for  a  cessation 
of  a  prolonged  drought :  the  other  implored  the  deity  to 
put  a  speedy  stop  to  flooding  rains  that  were  threatening 
to  devastate  their  fields.  During  daytime  every  thing 
went  well,  each  party  believing  that  the  other  had  come 
for  the  same  object  as  they  themselves  had.  As  both 
processions  numbered  many  hundreds  of  pilgiims,  the 
inns  in  the  place  were  crowded,  numbers  of  both  parties 
being  crammed  into  one  and  the  same  house.  A  chance 
word  betrayed  the  secret,  and  within  a  few  minutes  the 
whole  village  was  metamorphosed  into  a  battle-field.  Each 
party  exerted  their  utmost  to  drive  their  foes  out  of  the 
place,  so  as  to  be  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  church, 
wherein  to  call  down  the  intervention  of  the  Virgin  and 
her  host  of  omnipotent  saints.  The  battle  was  a  furious 
one,  and  was  fought  with  the  rage  and  ferocity  of  people 
threatened  with  the  loss  of  their  all  in  case  of  defeat. 


THE    VILLAGE  PR  LEST.  127 

When,  finally,  the  "  drought  "  men  succeeded  in  rout- 
hig  their  antagonists,  they  had  to  lament  not  a  few  of  their 
companions. 

Processions  will  be  undertaken  for  a  variety  of  pur- 
poses. The  murrain  breaking  out  among  cattle  will  send 
off  the  peasant  owners  in  a  stately  procession  to  a 
"  cattle  "  shrine,  distant  many  weary  hours,  if  not  days, 
from  their  homes.  If  you  ask  a  man  why  he  does  not 
honor  the  renowned  shrine  close  by  his  home  with  his 
visit,  he  will  tell  you  that  you  are  a  heathen  not  to  know 
that  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  IVIary  at  Absane  is  for 
womankind  desirous  of  obtaining  offspring,  and  not  for 
cattle.  "And  where  are  you  going?"  you  will  ask. 
"  Why,  to  St.  Leonhardt's,  of  course,  the  regular  shrine 
of  the  saintly  protector  of  'grown  cattle  and  horses.'" 
Calves,  heifers,  and  pigs  being  excluded  from  St.  Leon- 
hardt's patronage,  the  hapless  owner  of  these  latter  ani- 
mals has  to  wander  off  to  another  shrine  specially  dedi- 
cated to  small  fry. 

I  once  asked  a  peasant  toiling  along  an  Alpine  path  in 
the  Unterinnthal,  not  far  from  the  renowned  chapel  of 
St.  Leonhardt,  where  he  was  going.  "  To  St.  Leonhardt," 
he  replied  ;  and  on  being  asked  why  he  went,  he  told  me 
that  several  of  his  flock  were  sick,  and  that  three  had 
been  killed  the  week  before  by  an  avalanche.  I  expressed 
my  commiseration,  adding  that  as  long  as  no  human  li\'es 
were  lost  the  damages  were  reparable. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  peasant,  "  the  cowherd  was  killed  too  ; 
but  he  is  in  heaven  probably,  for  he  had  been  down  to 
the  village  the  day  before  for  confession." 

In  many  places,  strange  customs  peculiar  to  the  locality 
form  a  sort  of  by-play.  Thus,  at  Lienz,  the  usual  Palm 
Sunday  procession  is  rendered  a  striking  sight  by  a  man, 
representing  our  Saviour,  leading  the  procession,  seated 
on  a  donkey,  with  his  face  towards  the  tail. 

Agriculture  plays  a  very  conspicuous  7vle  in  religious 
outdoor  ceremonies.  Thus  the  crops  are  "  roused  " 
regularly  every  March  by  the  village  priest,  by  a  formal 
ceremony ;    or,   again,    a    bundle    of    straw   called    the 


128    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

"  Egerthansel,"  supposed  to  represent  "Winter,"  is  buried 
in  the  beginning  of  April.  What  different  meanings  are 
attributed  to  the  very  same  custom  in  different  locaUties, 
is  evinced  by  the  fact  that  in  other  valleys  this  self-same 
"Egerthansel"  is  a  source  of  great  fun  to  the  youths  of 
the  villages,  it  being  the  custom  to  "  hang  him  up  "  in 
front  of  the  door  of  the  lass  who  is  known  to  be  on  the 
lookout  for  a  husband. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  villagers  are  indiffer- 
ent to  the  merits  of  their  priest.  On  the  contrary,  his 
resources  and  abilities  are  a  matter  of  vast  importance  to 
them.  They  are  subject  to  constant  criticism ;  and  his 
sermons,  vociferous  and  unintelligible  as  they  often  are, 
find  an  exemplary  audience,  provided  they  are  of  a  char- 
acter sufficiently  realistic  to  please  rural  intellects  ren- 
dered somewhat  dense  by  a  strong  admixture  of  bigotry. 

You  will  often  hear  priests  praised  by  their  parishioners 
for  special  quahlications.  Thus  one  priest  will  enjoy  the 
repute  of  possessing  in  a  pre-eminent  degree  the  gift  of 
subduing  evil  spirits.  No  supernatural  machination  can 
withstand  his  potent  exorcising  formularies.  Human 
beings,  no  less  than  cattle,  are  instantly  freed  from  their 
uncanny  tormentors,  as  soon  as  their  black-coated  adver- 
sary, wielding  the  holy-water  sprinkle  in  his  right  hand, 
puts  in  his  appearance.  His  colleague  in  the  next  village, 
maybe,  is  a  bad  hand  at  this  kind  of  work,  and  natu- 
rally his  villagers  do  not  shrink  from  calling  in  the  ser- 
vices of  his  talented  brother  priest  when  occasion  requires  ; 
but  then,  again,  there  is  none  like  their  own  priest,  near 
and  far,  for  knowledge  of  efficacious  "Wettersegen,"  — 
"  thunderstorm  blessings."  Fields  that  have  once  been 
blessed  by  him  have  never  been  known  to  be  ravaged  by 
hailstorms,  while  those  whose  owners  have  neglected  to 
call  in  his  services  are  laid  waste  by  those  elementr.ry  dis- 
asters. Very  like  certain  church-bells  that  enjoy  a  high 
repute  as  "  Wetterglocken  "  (storm-bells),  throughout  the 
country,  his  fame  will  spread,  to  the  advantage  of  his 
larder  and  slender  purse.  Naturally,  each  village  desires 
to  possess  "  the  best  man,"  and  there  is  often  a  good  deal 


THE    VILLAGE   PRIEST.  129 

of  rivalry  brought  into  play.  In  one  of  the  small  branch 
valleys  of  the  Pastershal,  two  villages  are  situated  opposite 
each  other,  but  separated  by  a  deep  ravine  at  the  bottom 
of  which  flows  a  torrent.  Not  many  years  ago,  in  one  vil- 
lage a  young  priest  had  but  recently  established  himself, 
while  in  the  other  reigned  supreme  a  veteran  Co-operator, 
well  known  to  prefer  the  cellar  to  the  vestry.  One  un- 
lucky August  day,  a  severe  thunderstorm  was  seen  to  ap- 
proach ;  and,  as  in  duty  bound,  both  priests  repaired  to 
their  churches,  while  the  schoolmasters,  turning  loose 
their  noisy  flocks,  began  to  toll  the  church-bells,  as  usual 
on  such  occasions.  Our  young  friend,  as  his  parishioners 
brought  forth  as  exculpating  circumstances,  "  had  not  yet 
had  time  to  learn  his  craft,"  and  failed  to  avert  by  his 
prayers  the  danger  that  threatened  their  fields.  The  full 
force  of  a  terrible  hailstorm  sv/ept  over  the  village,  de- 
stroying the  crops,  while,  strange  to  say,  not  a  blade  of 
grass  was  damaged  on  the  other  side  of  the  valley  apper- 
taining to  the  parish  of  the  portly  old  "  Co-operator." 
The  great  rejoicings  on  the  part  of  the  exulting  peasantry 
whose  fields  and  crops  had  passed  unscathed  through  the 
ordeal  naturally  did  not  help  to  remove  the  sting  from 
the  wound  of  their  unfortunate  neighbors,  though  the  lat- 
ter, good-natured  as  the  peasantry  generally  are,  were 
careful  not  to  pain  their  unlucky  novice  by  recriminations. 
Unfortunately,  however,  his  ambitious  character  would 
not  permit  the  slur  of  incapacity  to  rest  upon  him  ;  and 
so,  after  mass  the  subsequent  Sunday,  he  launched  forth 
in  bitter  invectives  against  his  elder  colleague.  "  It  was 
he,"  said  he,  "  who,  by  dint  of  dark  practices,  had 
charmed  the  hailstorm  over  to  our  side  of  the  valley ;  it 
was  he  who,  in  his  forgetfulness  of  the  doctrines  of  God, 
had  caused  our  fields  and  crops  to  be  ravaged.  Are  not 
my  prayers  as  good  as  his?  and  how  was  it  possible,  that 
in  spite  of  them  God's  punishment  overtook  us,  and  not 
them  also?  " 

These  perorations  did  not  fail  to  go  straight  to  the 
hearts  of  his  congregation,  and  created  the  most  unneigh- 
borly  ill-feeling,    not   only  towards  the   object    of  their 


130    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

priest's  vvrath,  but  towards  his  whole  parish.  Dire  quar- 
rels and  sanguinary  fights  were  the  immediate  result,  and 
finally  compelled  the  Chapter  of  Brixen,  in  whose  diocese 
the  villages  lay,  to  remove  not  only  the  source  of  all  this 
mischief,  but  also  his  elder  and  innocent  rival. 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  131 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ALPINE   CHARACTERS  :     THE   VILLAGE   SCHOOLMASTER. 

FOR  brevity's  sake,  I  head  this  chapter  with  but  one 
of  the  numerous  titles  of  our  friend  the  village 
pedagogue.  But  I  hasten  to  repair  the  gross  injustice, 
by  telling  my  readers  that  in  his  dignified  person  are 
coalesced  all  those  parochial  and  social  offices  that  with 
us  are  severally  represented  by  the  beadle,  the  sexton, 
the  verger,  the  pew-opener,  the  bell-ringer,  the  chatty 
village  scribe,  the  cane-wielding  schoolmaster,  and,  as  we 
shall  presently  see,  by  a  host  of  various  other  village 
characters. 

What  an  imperfect  account  of  this  strange  being  is  it 
possible  to  give  in  these  pages  ! 

There  is  certainly  no  position  in  life,  in  which  a  man 
endowed  with  a  variety  of  talents  could  find  a  wider 
field  for  his  activity.  A  schoolmaster  in  a  Tyrolese  vil- 
lage has  emphatically  to  be  "  good  all  round,"  as  a 
Yankee  would  express  it.  His  personal  address,  which 
would  be  the  first  to  suffer  by  the  heterogeneous  nature 
of  his  duties,  is  happily  kept  well  up  to  the  mark  by  the 
laziness  of  the  pompous,  over-fed  Vicar,  no  less  than  by 
his  Curate,  the  slim  hard-worked  Co-operator,  who  both 
confide  in  their  conscientious  coadjutor. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  a  village  deprived  of  this  its 
chief  man.  Would  not  the  church  organ  fall  to  pieces 
from  mere  inactivity,  were  it  not  for  the  schoolmaster's 
talented  touch?  The  church  choir  would  be  a  still-born 
institution,  but  for  our  friend's  knack  of  organization  — • 
and  boundless  patience.     Fancy  ihc  churchyard  without 


132     GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

the  artist's  brush,  or  imagine  a  votive  tablet  painted  by 
other  hands  than  those  of  the  village  pedagogue.  The 
old  Gamps  of  the  neighborhood  would  be  inevitably 
driven  to  distraction,  had  they  not  in  our  hero  a  friend 
in  need,  well  versed  in  all  matters  connected  with  witch- 
craft and  sorcery.  The  horse  lamed  would  assuredly 
perish,  were  it  not  that  the  village  possessed  in  its  most 
valued  inhabitant,  an  amateur  farrier.  Pots  and  number- 
less stockings  full  of  money  are  saved  by  the  skillful 
manner  in  which  our  friend  performs  his  part  as  arbitrator 
of  all  village  quarrels.  Again,  picture  to  yourself  a  peas- 
ant anxious  to  petition,  most  humbly  of  course,  the 
mighty  magistrate  in  the  distant  town.  What  would  he 
do,  in  the  name  of  all  that's  just,  had  he  not  the  school- 
master at  his  elbow  to  write  out  that  important  document, 
until  it  should  require  but  his  rude  mark  as  signature  ? 

"  Modesty  graces  the  stupid,"  some  clever  man  is 
reported  to  have  said ;  but  does  it  not  grace  cleverness 
far  more  ?  That  modesty  is  one  of  the  cardinal  virtues 
of  a  schoolmaster,  is  proved  by  the  following  incident 
which  occurred  to  me  a  year  or  two  ago,  while  on  a 
pedestrian  tour  with  a  German  professor.  On  the  eve 
of  the  last  day  of  our  excursion  among  the  mountains,  we 
reached  a  small  Alpine  village,  where  my  friend,  who  had 
not  indulged  in  a  shave  since  departing  from  home, 
inquired  if  there  was  anybody  in  the  village  who  could 
handle  a  razor. 

"  Oh,  yes,  the  schoolmaster  shaves  !  "  we  learned  from 
the  host  of  the  little  inn. 

Presently  we  found  the  schoolhouse,  and,  walking  in, 
unwittingly  disturbed  the  village  worthy  in  the  middle 
of  his  discourse  to  a  crowded  audience  of  ruddy-faced, 
blue-eyed  and  curly-headed  urchins  of  a  remarkably 
robust  cast.  My  friend,  wishing  to  wait  till  school  was 
over,  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  Our  schoolmaster,  however, 
being  of  a  different  opinion,  rushed  out,  and,  on  hearing 
the  stranger's  request,  begged  him  to  "  step  up  the  ladder 
to  his  study."  The  Professor's  scruples  about  disturbing 
the  studies  of  the  young  students  were  quieted  by  the 


THE    VILLAGE   SCHOOLMASTER.  133 

man's  remark,  not  to  '''  mind  the  brats,"  they  being 
accustomed  to  wait  often  for  an  hour  or  two  at  a  time, 
while  he  was  away  in  church  attending  to  his  duties  as 
verger  and  bell-ringer,  or  while  accompanying  the  priest 
to  a  sick  bed  with  the  holy  sacrament. 

The  Professor  opened  his  eyes,  for  in  reality  he  had 
but  a  very  superficial  acquaintance  with  the  numerous 
duties  of  his  Tyrolese  colleagues. 

The  schoolmaster,  having  shaved  him,  was  made  su- 
premely happy  by  a  fourpenny-bit  (twenty  kreuzcn)  about 
treble  the  amount  he  had  asked.  The  man's  heart  opened 
towards  the  free-handed  stranger,  and  he  boldly  asked 
him  the  "  v/hat's  and  vdiere's  "  of  his  residence  and  pro- 
fession. Our  friend  informed  him  with  a  smile  on  his 
face  that  they  were  "  fellow-workers." 

"  And  does  every  one  of  your  customers  pay  fourpence 
for  shaving  ?  "  v/as  his  next  question,  "  for  then  I  can  un- 
derstand how  you  can  travel  for  amusement,  and  wear 
gold  spectacles  and  a  gold  ring." 

"  No,  my  friend,  you  are  mistaken  :  I  teach  the  young 
as  you  do,"  replied  the  thunderstruck  Professor. 

"  Ah,  yes  !  that's  right  well  possible,  for  of  course  you've 
got  to  teach  your  apprentices.  That's  quite  something 
else  than  driving  the  ABC  into  dull  heads,  as  I  have  to 
do." 

Finally  we  got  him  to  understand  that  the  Professor 
was  his  colleague  in  "t'other  things."  PL's  astonishment 
was  boundless  on  hearing  that  a  schoolmaster  stood  be- 
fore him.  "  But  to  give  fourpence  for  a  shave,"  that  was 
evidently  beyond  his  horizon.  The  gold  spectacles  might 
be  sham,  likewise  the  ring ;  but  the  fourpence,  they  were 
genuine  coins  of  the  realm,  and  no  mistake  about  them. 

We  parted  the  best  friends,  deeply  regretting  to  leave  a 
neighborhood  where  barbers  were  better  men  than  pro- 
fessors. 

Men  like  this  original  are  not  to  be  found  everywhere ; 
but  I  am  not  very  far  wrong  in  saying  that  the  majority 
of  rural  Tyrolese  schoolmasters  are  characters  in  their 
way.     I  have  found  but  few  whose  dealings  and  thoughts 


134    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

are  not  out  of  the  common,  or  whose  individuaUties  are 
not  worth  a  passing  scrutiny. 

Would  the  reader  mind  being  introduced  to  a  confrere 
of  tlie  barber?  It  is  true,  he  is  a  superior  kind  of  man, 
not  given  to  making  strange  mistakes,  and  therefore  his 
acquaintance  will  prove  less  amusing  than  that  of  the 
former ;  but  nevertheless  his  simple  tale  will  perhaps 
awake  some  little  interest.  Our  friend's  name  is  Georg 
S ,  and  he  is  a  schoolmaster  in  one  of  the  most  con- 
siderable villages  in  the  Passeir  valley. 

While  most  villages  in  their  relation  to  the  village  ty- 
rant—  the  schoolmaster  —  share  the  fate  of  the  hapless 
husband  in  the  Scotch  saying,  "  Every  man  can  guide  an 
ill  wife  weel,  but  him  that  has  her,"  our  hero  makes  a 
brilliant  exception.  He  is  beloved  by  the  children, 
looked  up  to  by  their  parents,  and  prized  beyond  measure 
by  the  parochial  dignitaries,  and  by  his  superiors,  the 
Vicar  and  the  Co-operator. 

Georg's  predecessor,  after  a  weary  spell  of  more  than 
half  a  century's  cane-wielding  and  knuckle-rapping, 
evinced,  one  fine  autumn  day,  a  sad  lack  of  proper  feel- 
ing and  compliance  to  custom  and  rule,  by  departing 
very  suddenly  from  the  scene  of  his  protracted  activity 
among  his  fellow-beings,  —  he  died. 

Unaccustomed  to  such  a  flagrant  want  of  decorum,  the 
village  authorities  were  placed  in  a  sad  fix.  They  had 
not  foreseen  the  possibility  of  such  an  event,  imagining, 
very  probably,  that  when  once  a  man  had  proved  to  pos- 
sess a  constitution  akin  to  that  of  Methuselah,  there  was 
no  earthly  cause  for  making  their  minds  uneasy  by  specu- 
lations on  the  question  of  a  successor. 

Months  went  by,  and,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  village 
children,  the  post  remained  vacant.  Eight  pounds  a  year 
for  salary  was  evidently  losing,  in  the  dear  times,  its  allur- 
ing charms ;  for,  to  the  untold  perplexity  of  the  authori- 
ties, no  application  for  the  enviable  post  reached  them. 

The  burgomaster  and  councilors  put  their  heads  to- 
gether, scratched  them  very  vigorously,  and  finally  de- 
cided, after  a  deal  of  squabbling,  to  raise  the  salary  to 


THE    VILLAGE   SCHOOLMASTER.  135 

ninety-five  florins  (^9.  loy.)  This  was  an  unheard-of 
piece  of  UberaUty  on  the  part  of  the  authorities,  for  no 
people  shrink  more  from  outstepping  bounds  drawn  by 
their  fathers  and  grandfathers  than  your  genuine  Tyrolese 
peasants. 

"  My  ancestors  did  so  and  so,  and  spent  so  and  so 
much  for  this  or  that  purpose,  and  I'll  do  the  like,"  is  the 
invariable  answer  to  any  proposition  entailing  any  innova- 
tion. 

To  swerve  from  a  time-honored  practice,  be  it  ever  so 
ill-adapted  to  meet  the  demands  of  civiUzation,  be  it  ever 
so  disadvantageous  to  their  interest,  is  contrary  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  more  remote  TjTolese  :  they  stick  to  it  with 
a  strange  persistency  bordering  on  pig-headedness,  un- 
accountable in  the  character  of  a  people  by  no  means 
inactive  or  stupid.  "  Their  ancestors,  their  grandfathers, 
and  their  fathers  tolled  the  house-bell  when  a  thunder- 
ston-n  was  approaching,  to  ward  off  the  lightning,  and 
they'll  do  it  too  :  it  does  no  harm,  at  any  rate,  and  one 
can't  tell  if  it  may  not  do  good." 

In  vain  you  argue  that  it  does  no  good  whatever,  but 
on  the  contrary  it  may  do  a  great  deal  of  mischief.  kx\ 
incredulous  smile  will  be  the  answer. 

We  can  fancy,  therefore,  what  a  sacrifice  of  feeling  it 
must  have  cost  these  venerable  village  dignitaries  to  ex- 
ceed the  sum  their  fathers  and  grandfathers  had  for  time 
out  of  memory  expended  upon  the  education  of  their 
offspring. 

But  there  was  no  help  for  it.  A  schoolmaster,  or, 
what  was  far  more  necessary,  a  sexton  and  proper  bell- 
ringer,  they  must  have. 

"  Why,  only  last  Sunday,"  remarked  one  of  the  coun- 
cilors, "  that  rascal  of  a  cobbler's  apprentice  "  (on  whom 
the  office  of  ringing  the  church-bells  had  been  delegated 
at  the  death  of  the  schoolmaster)  "  brought  the  whole 
village  to  church  fully  an  hour  and  a  half  too  early.  It 
was  just  gone  four  in  the  morning  when  the  third  bell 
rang,  and  I  hurried  to  church,  wondering  all  the  way  how 
it  came  that  I  had  overslept  myself." 


13^     GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Five  months  later,  our  friend  Georg  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  cottage  close  to  the  church,  containing  the 
large  schoolroom  on  the  ground-floor,  and  two  little  rooms 
and  a  kitchen  overhead  for  him  and  his  sister.  The  latter, 
a  pattern  of  a  prim  old  maid,  was  well  versed  in  household 
matters,  having  been  thoroughly  drilled  as  housekeeper 
and  cook  in  that  best  of  schools,  a  vicarage  in  a  wTetch- 
edly  poor  parish.  For  her  the  cottage  afforded  ample 
room,  but  not  so  for  her  artist  brother  and  his  atelier, 
without  which  he  could  not  exist. 

An  expenditure  of  some  ten  or  twelve  florins  —  a  very 
considerable  sum  for  Georg,  for  hitherto  he  had  school- 
mastered  for  eight  pounds  a  year  —  finally  enabled  him 
to  convert  a  sort  of  garret  into  an  airy  and  roomy  studio. 

In  peace  and  content  did  this  couple  pass  their  days 
in  their  modest  habitation,  the  brother  busy  from  half- 
past  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  —  for  at  a  quarter  to 
four  the  early  mass  had  to  be  rung  in  —  till  a  late  hour  in 
the  evening ;  the  sister  keeping  house  for  him,  and  attend- 
ing to  the  urgent  calls  for  her  services  as  medicine-woman 
for  man  and  beast.  Her  fame  as  such  spread  near  and 
far.  For  every  ailment  of  body  and  mind,  her  solace, 
her  simple  but  efiacacious  remedies,  were  eagerly  sought. 
She  was  the  Good  Samaritan  of  the  village. 

Fler  weary  journeys  up  to  the  distant  chalet  in  the 
depth  of  winter ;  her  indefatigable  nursing  of  some  sick 
child,  or  of  the  poor  sufiering  peasant  severely  injured 
by  an  accident  while  out  on  the  mountains  ;  or  her  sage 
advice  to  a  bev/ildered  neighbor  on  the  treatment  of  his 
catde,  who,  by  their  loud  bellowing  and  strange  antics, 
were  betraying  sure  signs  of  being  bewitched,  —  these, 
and  a  host  of  similar  traits  of  a  humane  heart,  had  gained 
her  the  love  of  the  whole  village. 

By  the  time  we  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  couple, 
they  had  resided  for  upwards  of  twenty  years  in  the  vil- 
lage. Both  were  old  and  gi-ay-haired,  and  both  had  that 
quiet  smile,  the  unobtrusive  manners,  the  same  kindly 
eyes,  which  gained  my  good-will  the  first  time  I  entered 
the  neat,  trimly-kept  cottage,  in  my  character  of  an  eager 
hric-a-brac  hunter. 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  137 

In  the  evening,  after  an  arduous  day's  work,  foraging 
about  in  peasants'  houses  pointed  out  by  Georg  as  the 
most  hkely  ones  to  contain  that  of  which  I  was  in  search, 
I  repaired  to  the  village  inn.  While  Georg,  v\'hom  I  had 
invited  to  join  in  a  chat  and  glass  of  wine,  was  absent 
ringing  the  evening  bells,  I  put  some  questions  relating 
to  Georg  to  the  garrulous  old  host. 

"  Ah  !  we've  got  a  treasure  in  that  couple  :  there's  none 
near  and  far  to  equal  them.  Georg  gained  our  hearts  the 
first  month  he  came  here,  by  putting  us  again  on  an  equal 
footing  v/ith  the  rest  of  the  Passeierer  villages." 

"On  an  equal  footing?"  v/c  inquire. 

" Yes,"  replied  our  informant.  "You  know,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  we  are  a  poor  and  primitive  people.  ]\Iany  of 
us  have  hardly  enough  to  find  bread  and  clothing  for  our 
own.  The  pastures  on  the  Alps  are  by  no  means  rich, 
the  soil  in  the  valley  is  exceedingly  poor,  and  our  sons 
and  daughters  leave  their  parents,  to  gain  their  livelihood 
by  some  trade  or  other,  at  the  very  time  their  hands  are 
most  wanted  at  home.  It  is  a  poor  valley,  but  still  all 
of  us  take  a  great  pride  in  our  churches.  We  spend  on 
them  and  their  endowment  a  deal  of  money,  more,  per- 
haps, than  we  can  afford.  The  inhabitants  of  the  several 
villages  in  our  valley  rival  with  each  other  in  the  fitting 
out  of  the  sacred  edifices,  as  well  as  in  the  gorgeous 
equipment  of  our  religious  processions,  which  are  held  at 
certain  periods  of  the  year.  Well,  the  village  churches 
in  13 and  in  St.  L ,"  naming  two  neighboring  par- 
ishes, "  set  up  some  twenty  years  ago  a  '  Holy  Dove  '  and 
an  'Ascension  of  Christ.'  " 

In  answer  to  ray  query  what  that  meant,  I  was  informed 
that  the  former  is  an  imitation  dove,  made  of  feathers 
and  pasteboard,  representing  the  symbol  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  On  Whit-Sunday  it  is  let  down,  by  means  of 
cords,  from  an  opening  in  the  ceiling  of  the  church, 
while  the  priests  chant  the  "  Deo  Gratia,"  and  the  con- 
gregation are  on  their  knees,  gazing  upwards,  and  intently 
watching  the  holy  emblem  slowly  descending,  and  then, 
when  nearly  touching  their  heads,  rising  again,  circling 


138    GADDINGS  IVirH  A    PKIMJTJVE   PEOPLE. 

upwards,  till  finally  it  disappears  through  the  opening  in 
the  arch. 

"  You  can  not  imagine,"  my  informant  continued,  "  how 
devoutly  the  people  watch  this  religious  performance,  and 
indeed  it  is  a  grand  sight,  and  one  that  does  one  good. 
The  solemn  tones  of  the  priest  as  he  chants  his  prayers, 
the  deep  hush  that  lies  over  the  multitude,  the  full  tones 
of  the  organ  breaking  in  now  and  again,  the  thin  wreaths 
of  incense  rising  on  both  sides  of  the  altar,  the  tinkling  of 
the  tiny  little  silver  bells  in  the  hands  of  the  acolytes,  — 
all  these  unite  in  producing  a  vivid  impression  upon  the 
mind." 

"  And  what  is  the  Ascension  of  Christ?  "  I  ask,  curious 
to  hear  what  that  meant. 

"It's  something  very  similar.  Instead  of  the  dove,  it's 
the  life-size  figure  of  Christ,  which  on  Ascension  Day  is 
raised  by  cords  from  the  altar,^  amid  the  devout  prayers 
of  the  congregation,  the  burning  of  incense,  and  bless- 
ings pronounced  by  the  priest,  arrayed  in  the  gorgeous 
vestments  they  wear  on  that  day." 

I  remembered  having  heard  of  this  before,  in  connec- 
tion with  a  somewhat  startling  event  that  occurred  years 
ago  in  a  church  at  Hall. 

The  cords  by  which  "Christ"  was  to  be  pulled  up 
were  old  and  worn  ;  and  one  Ascension  Day  they  broke, 
and  the  life-size  figure  of  our  Saviour  came  tumbling  dovv'n, 
smashing  all  the  appurtenances  on  the  decorated  altar. 
The  whole  ceremony  would  have  been  spoilt,  and  the  pious 
congregation  —  numbers  of  Avhich  had  wandered  many  a 
weary  mile  in  order  to  witness  the  renowned  ceremony — 
would  have  been  deprived  of  the  show,  had  not  some  per- 
son or  other  connected  with  the  church  (undoubtedly  he 
had  the  blood  of  a  schoolmaster  in  him,  if  he  was  not 
one  himself)  pitched  upon  a  happy  remedy,  with  a  pres- 
ence of  mind  and  ingenuity  worthy  of  a  higher  reward 
than  the  mere  praise  of  the  Vicar. 

1  In  other  places,  again,  the  figure  of  Christ  is  placed  in  a  shrine  in  the  center 
aisle,  and  from  ihence  is  drawn  up  to  the  opening  in  the  arch  used  on  Whit-Sunday 
for  the  "  Holy  Ghost." 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  1 39 

A  lai-ge  mason's  bucket  being  fetched,  the  handle  tied 
to  a  cord,  was  let  down  from  the  hole  at  the  top,  and  the 
fragments  of  the  figure  representing  Christ,  such  as  head, 
legs,  and  arms,  crammed  into  the  pail. 

The  "  Tc  Deo  Profundi  "  was  recommenced  ;  and  amid 
the  chimes  of  the  silver  bells,  the  chanting  of  the  choir, 
and  the  full  sounds  of  the  organ,  the  "  Ascension  "  was 
performed,  with  the  shattered  pieces  of  Christ's  figure 
stowed  away  in  the  tub. 

"Georg,"  continued  our  talkative  old  host,  ''seeing 
that  the  absence  of  these  tvv^o  pious  frauds  was  having  a 
decidedly  bad  effect  upon  the  minds  of  his  fellow-parish- 
ioners, determined  that  the  church  should  possess  not 
only  a  Holy  Dove,  but  also  an  Ascension,  and  in  the  course 
of  the  next  fortnight  had  himself  succeeded  in  construct- 
ing the  emblem  of  peace,  and  wheedling  a  life-size  figure 
of  Christ  out  of  a  peasant  carver.  The  next  Whit-Sunday 
the  congregation  were  pleasantly  surprised  by  the  welcome 
sight  of  the  '  Holy  Ghost '  descending  upon  them,  an 
occurrence  putting  them  again  on  an  equal  footing  with 
their  rivals ;  and  from  that  day  Georg's  reputation  and 
position  were  secure." 

The  conversation  with  mine  host  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  Georg  him.self,  who,  after  his  usual  greeting, 
"  Gelobt  sei  Jesus"  sat  down  with  us,  and  helped  him- 
self to  the  wine  placed  before  him. 

We  were  soon  in  deep  conversation.  Many  an  inter- 
esting incident  and  quaint  passage  in  his  life  I  gleaned 
from  him.  Eager  to  please  the  wanderer  who  seemingly 
took  so  lively  an  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  poor  little 
village,  he  naturally,  and  in  the  most  touching  manner, 
betrayed  the  desire  to  exhibit  its  brightest  sides. 

His  heart  was  wrapped  up  in  the  limited  sphere  of  his 
acti\ity,  and  his  greatest  pleasure  was  to  improve  the  lot 
of  his  fellow-villagers,  and  to  amend  the  prospects  of  the 
community  as  a  whole. 

"Ah  !  "  he  would  exclaim,  "  were  we  not  so  wretchedly 
poor,  a  great  deal  could  be  done.  The  ground  could  be 
made  more  producti\-e,  were  the  young  not  obliged  to 


MO    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

leave  their  homes,  and  then  the  children  could  remain 
lon:]rer  at  school.  What  is  four  months  of  school  in  the 
year  for  a  child,  and  that  only  at  an  age  rarely  exceeding 
thirteen?  At  fourteen  they  must  begin  work  for  them- 
selves, and  most  likely  remain  on  their  father's  Alps  the 
livelong  summer,  where  the  rudiments  of  reading  and 
vvTiting,  which  they  had  acquired  the  preceding  years,  are 
speedily  replaced  by  more  profitable  knowledge  of  milk- 
ing, churning,  and  cheesemaking.  A  comparatively  very 
small  sum  of  money  would  sufiice  to  better  the  breed  of 
cattle,  to  drive  new  ideas  into  the  thick  heads  of  the  in- 
habitants, and  to  introduce  new  trades,  as  other  valleys 
have." 

With  these  and  other  subjects  our  evening  passed  away 
very  pleasantly ;  and  the  next  morning  I  paid  his  modest 
dv/clling  a  visit,  and  was  honored  with  an  invitation  to  in- 
spect his  "  painting-room,"  as  he  termed  his  atelier  at  the 
top  of  the  cottage. 

I  had  been  in  m.any  a  village  schoolmaster's  "  study  " 
before,  but  in  none  did  it  look  so  tidy  and  clean.  On 
one  side  of  the  wall  were  ranged,  side  by  side,  some 
twenty  or  thirty  small  studies  of  male  and  female  heads, 
some  of  which  betrayed  a  certain  talent,  though  of  course 
the  work  was  rough  in  the  extreme.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  room  were  piles  of  iron  crosses  such  as  are  placed 
on  the  tombs.  Over  them  v/as  a  shelf  laden  with  various 
wax  figures,  each  about  three  or  four  inches  high,  repre- 
senting, besides  men,  women,  and  children,  every  imagin- 
able limb  and  organ  of  the  human  body.  They  were  for 
votive  offerings  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  or  to  some  other 
favorite  saint,  in  acknowledgment  of  blessings  besought 
from  them.  The  poor  woodcutter,  who  has  injured  his 
leg  desperately  with  his  ax,  on  being  cured,  forthwith 
purchases  a  v/ax  leg,  and  hangs  it  up  at  the  shrine  of  the 
saint  whose  blessed  services  he  besought  in  the  hour  of 
despair  and  sickness.  This  is  the  very  least  he  will  do  ; 
others  go  a  greater  length  in  demonstrating  their  gratitude 
to  licaven  for  a  miraculous  cure.  An  instance  of  this 
came  under  my  notice  a  sliort  time  ago.     A  huntsman 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  141 

had  been  shot  by  a  poacher,  and  left  for  dead  in  the 
mountains.  Two  days  after  receiving  liis  wound,  he  was 
accidentally  discovered  ;  too  late,  however,  to  save  his  leg. 
It  had  to  be  amputated,  and  the  sufferer  ordered  the  limb 
to  be  buried  close  to  the  spot  where  he  had  been  wounded. 
When  he  was  cured,  he  himself  presented  a  votive  tablet, 
and  set  it  up  over  his  leg's  grave,  and  whenever  he  passed 
he  never  failed  to  sprinkle  holy  water  over  it,  which  he 
carried  with  him  in  a  bottle  for  that  purpose. 

The  mother  whose  babe  recovered  from  a  severe  illness, 
by  the  help  of  the  Virgin  and  of  her  patron  saint,  spends 
a  part  of  her  savings  in  the  purchase  of  a  wax  representa- 
tion of  a  baby  in  swaddling-clothes,  and,  tying  a  bright 
blue  ribbon  round  its  neck,  hangs  it  up  at  the  altar  of  her 
patron  saint. 

The  poor  cripple  whose  sufferings  are  at  length,  after 
being  endured  for  months  or  years,  reUeved  by  judicious 
medical  treatment,  remembers  in  his  gratitude,  first  of  all, 
the  supernatural  powers  that  favored  his  recovery,  and 
hangs  a  couple  of  miniature  crutches,  or  a  leg  of  wax,  on 
one  of  the  walls  in  his  village  chapel.  Not  till  afterwards 
does  he  recollect  the  services  of  the  country  ^sculap. 

Vv'ith  eyes,  ears,  and  all  other  distinct  organs  or  mem- 
bers of  the  human  body,  it  is  the  same  way,  and  many  a 
chapel's  interior  is  more  like  an  anatomical  museum  than 
a  place  of  worship.  Hearts,  we  need  hardly  tell  our  fair 
readers,  preponderate.  In  many  districts  the  sex  of  the 
one  offered  can  be  distinguished  at  the  first  glance,  the 
male  ones  being  of  red  wax,  while  those  of  females  are  of 
white. 

A  certain  degree  of  superstition  is  at  the  bottom  of  all 
votive  gifts  ;  a  far  greater  degree,  however,  is  perceptible 
in  another  form  of  votive  offerings,  for,  not  in  a  few 
chapels  hang,  cheek  bv  jowl  with  hearts,  legs,  arms,  and 
eyes,  toads  shaped  01  wax.  Now,  the  toad  is  undoubtedly 
one  of  the  few  animals  in  creation  which  are  universally 
considered  unclean.  Our  Tyrolese  goes  farthc/  :  he  in- 
vests it  with  certain  powers  of  witchcraft  and  sorcery,  in- 
asmuch as  all  witches  and  sorceresses  are,  according  to 


142    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

his  belief,  turned  at  their  death  into  toads.  It  is  therefore 
all  the  more  singular,  that  this  highly  suspicious  animal 
should  find  a  place  in  the  sacred  precincts  of  a  chapel. 
The  reason  is,  that  the  offering  of  a  waxen  toad  is  the 
sure  sign  that  the  person  offering  it  has  been  the  victim 
of  witchcraft,  and  that  his  fears,  prayers,  and  the  promises 
of  a  sacrifice  in  the  shape  of  a  votive  gift,  were  the  effect- 
ual means  of  bringing  about  his  delivery. 

There  are  many  ways  in  which  a  person  can  become 
the  victim  of  these  uncanny  tormentors.  Cattle  will 
evince  strange  signs  of  brute  sagacity,  or,  by  loud  bellow- 
ing, betray  tokens  of  some  unholy  spirit's  presence,  or 
their  milk,  after  a  few  hours,  will  turn  sour.  Children, 
specially  babies  in  their  cradles,  are  liable  to  be  "  charmed 
by  the  evil  eye,"  an  event  making  itself  known  by  long 
spells  of  crying  and  squalling,  and  by  a  strange  restless- 
ness. 

The  far  commoner  circumstances  connected  with  the 
offering  of  toads  are,  however,  the  non-appearance  of 
heirs  to  increase  the  wedded  happiness  of  some  young 
couple  or  other.  What  else  can  possibly  cause  this  sad 
disappointment  of  the  would-be  parents'  hopes  and  de- 
sires, but  the  spiteful  "charm  "  exercised  by  some  witch 
who  for  unknown  reasons  bears  them  a  gi'udge  ?  They 
pray  devoutly,  and  perform  penance  ;  and,  if  their  means 
allow  it,  they  will  undertake  a  pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of 
the  Virgin  Mary,  at  Absam,^  a  place  of  pilgrimage  spe- 
cially favored  by  persons  anxious  to  be  rendered  happy 
by  an  increase  of  family.  The  occurrence  of  the  happy 
event,  the  fulfillment  of  their  wish,  is  followed  either  by 
the  presentation  of  a  waxen  baby  in  swaddling-clothes,  or, 
if  the  parents  ascribe  the  delay  to  supernatural  causes,  by 
presenting  a  toad  to  the  next  shrine. 

Were  we  to  do  justice  to  all  these  quaint  offerings, 
many  a  page  could  be  filled.  Let  us  glance  at  a  few 
others.  A  considerable  number  represent  cattle, —  cows, 
with  or  without  calves  at  their  sides,  bullocks  with  huge 

'  A  village  near  Hall,  in  the  Unterinnthal. 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  143 

horns,  sheep,  goats,  and  pigs.  I  once  happened  to  be 
ensconced  behind  a  pillar  in  a  small  chapel  in  a  remote 
valley,  occupied  mth  sketching  the  altar.  At  first  no- 
body was  in  the  chapel ;  but  presently  there  entered  a 
buxom  lass  of  some  nineteen  or  twenty  years,  whose 
ruddy  color  betokened  a  long  stay  on  the  exposed  pas- 
turages of  the  Alps.  Not  observing  me  in  the  corner, 
she  advanced  to  the  railings  in  front  of  the  altar,  and  knelt 
down  to  pray.  Imagining  she  was  alone,  she  prayed 
aloud,  so  that  I  could  hear  every  word  of  her  simple  out- 
pourings. It  was  really  touching,  to  hear  the  simple 
maiden  express  her  gratitude  to  her  patroness,  the  Virgin 
Mary,  for  conceding  to  her  the  boon  she  had  besought 
of  her.  While  tending  her  cattle  in  the  solitude  of  the 
Alps,  a  cow  had  slipped  down  a  slope,  and  had  broken 
her  leg.  Naught  but  a  miracle  worked  by  the  Virgin 
Mary  could  save  the  life  of  the  cow,  and  the  maiden 
from  the  disgrace  which  this  untoward  event  would  cast 
upon  her. 

In  her  extremity  she  resolved  to  implore  the  interces- 
sion of  her  benign  patroness,  and  vow  to  pray  a  certain 
number  of  "  rosaries,"  and  also  to  offer  a  waxen  cow  at 
her  shrine,  if  the  animal  should  recover  from  her  injuries. 
She  remained  constantly  at  the  side  of  the  injured  beast, 
bathing  the  wounded  limb  with  a  decoction  of  certain 
herbs,  and,  wonderful  to  say,  at  the  end  of  a  week  the 
beast  could  rise,  and  in  a  fortnight  was  able  to  move  about 
as  usual.  Now  that  autumn  and  snow  had  set  in,  she  had 
returned  from  her  exposed  summer  abode  ;  and,  when 
the  animal  had  long  been  restored  to  her,  hastened,  the 
very  day  she  descended  with  her  flock  from  the  Alps,  to 
the  distant  chapel,  to  fulfill  her  vow.  More  than  two 
hours  she  remains  on  her  knees  ;  and  then,  rising  to  her 
feet,  and  pulling  a  neady-folded  handkerchief  from  her 
pocket,  discloses  the  waxen  effigy  of  a  cow,  some  three 
inches  in  height.  .\  ribbon  is  tied  round  the  body,  and 
the  offering  is  hung  on  a  nail  at  the  side  of  the  altar. 

But  what  is  that  strange-looking  box,  somewhat  resem- 
bling a  large  cigar-box,  nailed  to  the  wall  near  the  altar? 


144    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Let  us  examine  it.  We  find  that  it  contains  about  a  hun- 
dred squares  of  cardboard,  each  having  a  number  on  it. 
It  is  a  "soul's  lottery,"  and  used  by  penitent  sinners  after 
confession.  They  draw  one  of  the  squares  from  the  box, 
and  have  to  pray  so  many  prayers  as  are  indicated  by  the 
number  on  the  ticket.  As  they  run  from  one  to  ninety, 
and  as  to  pray  a  rosary  is  an  affair  of  half  an  hour,  a  sin- 
ner who  has  not  luck  on  his  side  may  be  condemned  to 
a  forty-eight  or  forty-nine  hours'  prayer. 

But  to  return  to  the  studio  of  our  friend.  Georg  was 
the  purveyor  to  the  village,  not  only  of  these  wax  eftigies, 
but  also,  as  we  have  heard,  of  crosses  for  the  tombs. 
More  important  perhaps  than  these  two  articles,  were 
the  huge  wax  candles  sold  by  him  to  devout  and  penitent 
sinners.  Throughout  all  Roman  Catholic  countries,  it  is 
a  wide-spread  custom  to  offer  up  candles  for  the  salvation 
of  one's  soul. 

There  are  different  ways  and  means  of  encompassing 
this  favorable  end  ;  the  most  original,  and  decidedly  the 
safest  at  the  end,  was  that  of  a  certain  old  woman  in 
Brixen,  who,  after  buying  three  pound  wax  candles,  light- 
ed two  before  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  reserved 
the  third  for  a  large  statue  of  St.  George,  with  his  cus- 
tomary footstool  in  the  shape  of  a  huge  dragon.  She 
stuck  the  sacred  taper,  after  lighting  it  carefully,  right  on 
the  end  of  the  fierce  demon's  tail,  and  then  retired  to  her 
pew  to  pray.  The  verger,  on  entering  the  church  half  an 
hour  later,  was  not  a  HtUe  astonished  to  find  St.  George's 
dragon  lighted  up  in  this  unusual  manner.  As  he  was 
about  to  remove  the  candle,  the  old  woman  rushed  out 
of  her  pew,  and  told  him  to  let  it  be. 

"  For,"  said  she,  "  I  have  given  two  candles  to  the 
Virgin,  and  this  one  I  mean  to  offer  to  the  Evil  One,  who, 
I  take  it,  is  meant  to  be  represented  by  that  brute." 

The  verger,  thunderstruck  at  this  piece  of  sacrilegious 
profanity,  remonstrated  with  her,  but  it  was  futile. 

"  One  can't  know,  after  all,  where  one  comes  to  after 
death.  Maybe  this  candle  will  save  me  no  end  of  hell- 
ish tortures  ;  at  all  events,  it's  best  to  have  friends  in  both 
places,"  was  her  answer,  and  she  stuck  to  it. 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  145 

Many  a  schoolmaster  whose  lot  has  been  cast  in  a 
good  neighborhood,  which  means  one  containing  a  goodly 
number  of  devout  and  penitent  sinners,  or  a  lack  of  mar- 
riageable swains,  turns  many  a  dishonest  penny  by  defraud- 
ing the  devout  of  half  or  a  third  of  each  candle  burnt 
by  them  at  the  shrine  of  their  saints. 

At  shrines  visited  by  large  numbers  of  pilgrims,  the 
item  of  wax  is  an  exceedingly  profitable  one,  both  for  the 
seller  of  the  commodity  and  for  those  who  make  it  their 
trade  to  pilfer  half-burnt  candles  from  the  altar  during  the 
night. 

Our  friend  Georg  is  not  one  of  these.  He  lets  every 
soul  have  its  due  in  the  way  of  salvation  called  down  by 
the  sacrifice  of  candles.  "  Hell  is  hot  enough  for  them, 
poor  things  !  " 

We  have  not  yet  finished  our  examination  of  the  studio. 
In  the  center  of  the  room  stood  a  painter's  easel,  and  in 
front  of  it  a  block  of  wood  for  a  chair.  Here  Georg 
passed,  as  he  tells  us,  the  happiest  hours  of  his  life.  It 
was  odd  to  hear  the  old  fellow  dilate  upon  the  mysteries 
of  the  painter's  craft.  He  who  had  never  had  the  slight- 
est tuition  of  any  kind,  who  had  not  even  seen  a  painter 
at  work,  spoke  of  foreground  and  background,  light  and 
shade,  foliage  and  rock-work,  with  the  confidence  of  an 
accomplished  artist. 

While  we  were  turning  over  the  leaves  of  an  old  design- 
book  of  liis,  an  old  woman  entered  the  chamber.  Georg, 
who  knew  her,  of  course  began  chatting  with  her. 

We  soon  learned  that  the  old  dame  had  lost  her  son  the 
previous  winter :  he  had  been  crushed  by  a  tree  which 
he  was  about  to  slide  down  the  precipitous  slopes  of  the 
adjacent  mountain.  The  woman  had  come  to  order  a 
votive  tablet  to  be  painted  and  put  up  on  the  spot  where 
the  accident  had  occurred. 

It  was  odd  to  hear  the  artist  inquire  of  his  customer 
how  she  wished  him  to  "paint"  Franze.  Was  he  to  lie, 
or  to  stand  upright,  or  to  kneel?  did  she  wish  the  figure 
to  be  large,  or  small?  was  he  to  paint  "  blood,"  or  did  she, 
perhaps,  wish  to  have  a  portrait  only  ? 


146    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Oh,  no  !  she  wanted  the  accident  to  be  depicted  just 
as  it  happened,  and  as  regards  the  hkeness  it  did  not 
matter.  And  glancing  along  the  several  rows  of  "study 
heads  "  ranged  along  the  wall,  she  pointed  to  one,  and 
said  that  face  there  pleased  her ;  and  though  the  youth 
depicted  had  black  hair  and  black  eyes,  and  her  "  Franze  " 
was  blonde,  it  did  not  matter  !  It  was  the  only  head 
there  that  was  as  handsome  as  "  Franze,"  and  that  lay 
next  the  fond  mother's  heart. 

The  next  thing  to  be  settled  was  the  inscription  beneath 
the  picture.  It  took  a  long  time  to  compose  one  that 
pleased  the  old  lady. 

One  was  too  short,  the  other  did  not  speak  in  suffi- 
ciently meritorious  terms  of  her  son's  virtues ;  the  third 
was  quite  a  mistake,  for  in  it  was  net  mentioned  that 
"Franze"  had,  fortunately,  been  to  confession  the  Sun- 
day previous  to  the  accident,  and  that  therefore  it  was 
probable  that  he  had  died  without  a  sin  unconfessed  and 
unabsolved  on  his  conscience. 

All  this  had  to  be  put  forth  with  due  imp7'essement  in 
the  inscription. 

"And  underneath,  schoolmaster,"  the  old  lady  ended, 
"  you  must  paint  the  tortures  of  hell ;  but  make  them  as 
horrible  as  you  possibly  can,  for  then  wanderers  who  pass 
will  be  reminded  of  the  terrible  fate  that  awaits  the  sin- 
ner, and  will  pray  a  "  Vater  unser  "  or  two  for  the  salva- 
tion of  my  'Franze's  '  soul." 

The  price  of  this  work  of  art  was  moderate  in  the 
extreme,  being  less  than  three  shillings. 

In  three  clays  the  woman  was  to  fetch  the  tablet. 

When  she  had  left,  I  turned  the  conversation  to  this 
subject,  being  anxious  to  hear  some  more  particulars 
regarding  it.  I  had  often  been  struck  by  the  circum- 
stance, that  not  infrequently  votive  tablets  are  placed  in 
the  church,  and  not  on  the  spot  where  the  accident  itself 
had  occurred.  I  inquired  the  reason ;  and  he  told  me 
that  generally  it  was  done  when  the  relatives  of  the  per- 
son who  had  been  killed  deemed  it  Hkely  that  he  had  died 
with  a  sin  on  his  conscience. 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  147 

"You  know,"  he  said,  "  were  the  tablet  to  be  placed  in 
the  out-of-the-way  place  where  the  accident  had  occurred, 
it  would  seldom  chance  that  anybody  passed,  and  thus 
very  few  pra}-ers  for  the  redemption  of  the  victim's  soul 
would  be  prayed.  If  the  picture,  on  the  contrary,  hangs 
in  the  church,  it  is  seen  by  many  who  are  willing,  at  a 
cost  of  praying  a  rosary  or  two,  to  lighten  the  wretched 
sinner's  tortures  in  hell." 

The  schoolmaster's  brush  is  likewise  called  into  requi- 
sition on  other  occasions,  to  depict  scenes  in  domestic 
life. 

Thus  the  peasant  who  has  passed  the  better  part  of  his 
married  life  in  constant  warfare  with  his  wife  will,  when 
finally  some  happy  contingency  has  ended  this  feud  of 
long  standing,  order  a  votive  picture  to  be  painted.  He 
need  but  give  the  artist  the  cue  "  domestic  quarrel,"  and 
the  latter  knows  what  to  do. 

He  will  paint  a  small  altar,  on  the  right  side  of  which 
kneels  the  penitent  husband,  on  the  other  the  wife,  both 
in  the  attitude  of  prayer,  with  their  rosaries  in  their  hands. 
Underneath  will  be  written  the  names  and  date,  and  a 
verse,  commonly  hinting  at  the  cause  of  the  conjugal 
dispute.  Here  are  one  or  two,  copied  at  random  from 
votive  tablets  in  Unterinnthal  chapels  :  — • 

"  Accept  this  little  offering 
From  hearts  penitent  and  pure, 
And  screen  us,  while  our  sins  forgiving, 
At  night  and  day  from  friends." 

The  second  one  runs  :  — 

"  Thanks  be  to  you,  O  Heavenly  Mary, 
For  hearing  our  prayers,  and  joining  two  hearts 
That  now  are  one,  bat  had  been  twain, 
By  giving  us  a  son." 

The  artist  has  completed  his  work  to  the  satisfaction  of 
his  patron,  and  after  receiving  his  fee,  amounting  perhaps 
to  a  shilling  or  eighteen  pence,  he  accompanies  the  re- 
united couple  next  Sunday  to  the  chipel  destined  to  be 


148    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

adorned  by  his  work  of  art.  A  nail  is  fixed  into  the  wall ; 
and  while  husband  and  wife  are  kneeling  at  the  altar,  the 
picture  is  hung  up  side  by  side  with  dozens  of  others  of 
like  import. 

There  is  another  contingency  in  home  life  that  fre- 
quently calls  for  the  artist's  faithful  brush.  I  have  already 
referred  to  it  when  speaking  of  wax  votive  offerings ;  it 
is  the  fulfillment  of  the  long-prayed-for  ''  happy  event." 

The  pictures  depicting  these  pleasurable  occurrences 
of  married  life  might  well  be  termed  family  pictures, 
though,  of  course,  their  place  is  on  the  sacred  walls  of 
the  chapel,  and  not,  as  the  subject  would  indicate,  on 
those  of  the  peasant's  best  room. 

Examining  the  work  of  art,  we  see  a  woman  lying  in 
bed,  on  each  side  of  which  kneel  the  male  and  female 
relations  in  attitudes  of  prayer.  Over  the  bed,  floating  in 
the  air,  is  a  baby  of  huge  proportions,  in  swaddling- 
clothes,  a  la  Tyrolese  ;  and  right  over  it,  near  the  top  of 
the  picture,  which  rarely  exceeds  some  twelve  or  fourteen 
inches  square,  we  see  the  Virgin  and  the  Child,  seated  on 
her  usual  throne  of  clouds,  peeping  down  at  the  happy 
family  of  wooden  humanity  collected  at  her  feet.  Under 
the  picture  are  usually  written  sbme  words  informing  the 
reader  that  the  picture  was  presented  by  So-and-So,  in 
accordance  with  a  vow  made  at  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin 
J.Iary  at  Absam,  or  at  any  other  of  the  countless  places 
of  pilgrimage  reputed  to  work  miracles  in  the  "  family 
way." 

Now  we  will  descend  the  steep,  ladder-like  stairs,  and, 
as  we  pass  the  door,  cast  one  glance  into  the  schoolroom. 

It  has  been  observed  by  an  eminent  traveler,  that 
schoolrooms  are  like  each  other  all  over  the  globe ;  and 
indeed  we  can  not  make  an  exception  in  Tyrol.  The 
rows  of  empty  benches  are  alike  dreary,  be  they  in  pic- 
turesque Tyrol,  or  in  smoke-grilled  London  or  Manches- 
ter. The  large  blackboard  in  the  background  is  as  grim 
and  forbidding  in  a  mountainous  country  as  in  a  flat  one. 
Were  we  to  examine  a  little  closer  into  the  interior  of  the 
Tyrolese  schoolroom  in  a  remote  valley,  a  strange-look- 


THE    VILLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  I49 

ing  contrivance  in  the  corner  would  arrest  our  attention. 
\Vc  inquire  its  use,  and  learn  that  between  the  two  verti- 
cal pillars  are  placed  the  billets  of  wood  which  those  of 
the  poorer  children  who  are  unable  to  pay  the  school 
money  —  a  farthing  a  day  —  bring  in  lieu  of  it. 

In  the  porch  we  bid  good-by  to  our  host  and  friend, 
the  venerable  and  kindly  schoolmaster.  Let  us  not  for- 
get the  appointment  we  have  made  with  him,  to  meet 
him  a  couple  of  months  hence  at  the  "  Ehehaft  teidignug  " 
or  general  assembly  of  all  the  peasants  in  the  largest 
village,  that  of  St.  Leonhardt.  This  is  an  institution  carry- 
ing us  back  to  the  very  earliest  times,  when  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice  was  centered  in  the  hands  of  the  high 
and  mighty  lord  of  the  territory,  who  troubled  himself 
but  little  with  the  home  affairs  of  his  oppressed  villains. 
The  old  territorial  lav^-s  that  are  kept  up  to  the  present 
day  with  strange  persistency,  inflict  a  very  heavy  fine  on 
those  who  absent  themselves  from  this  annual  assembly. 
It  partakes,  or  rather  it  partook,  —  for  of  late  years  some 
of  the  strangest  customs  have  been  done  away  v\dth,  — 
more  of  the  character  of  a  general  settling  day,  in  all 
matters  connected  with  justice  and  money  transactions, 
than  of  any  thing  else  to  which  we  could  liken  it.  Quar- 
rels between  neighbors  are  decided  by  three  umpires, 
generally  mutual  friends  of  the  opponents.  Debts  are 
paid,  sales  of  stock  and  wood  are  effected,  extensions  of 
credit  arc  demanded  and  accorded ;  in  fact,  the  business 
affairs  of  an  entire  twelve  months  are  decided.  It  is  a 
grand  and  excessively  busy  day  for  Georg.  He  has  to  be 
here  and  there  and  everywhere  at  once.  Contracts  and 
deeds  have  to  be  drawn  up  and  witnessed ;  old  charters 
pored  over,  and  their  meaning  explained  to  an  anxious 
audience ;  legal  points  in  a  hotly-debated  controversy 
looked  up,  and  advice  upon  them  given  to  stubborn  peas- 
ants. The  tithes  are  collected  that  day,  and  outstanding 
school-money  paid  :  in  fact,  it  is  the  one  and  sole  busi- 
ness day  in  the  Passcier  valley.  From  an  early  hour  in 
the  morning,  the  whole  village  is  filled  with  a  gay 
crowd.     All   kinds   of  merchandise   are   here   collected 


150    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

in  one  and  the  same  booth,  —  from  the  unwieldy  felt 
hat  down  to  the  diminutive  looking-glass  about  the  size 
of  a  five-shilling  piece,  protected  by  a  wooden  casing,  — 
from  the  ponderous  bell  for  the  leading  cow  on  the  Alp, 
down  to  packets  of  tin-tacks.  The  village  church  bells 
have  been  going  from  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  and 
BOW  and  again  we  hear  faint  echoes  of  shots,  with  which 
well-to-do  peasants  are  fond  of  announcing  to  their  neigh- 
bors that  they  are  on  the  point  of  leaving  their  homes, 
many  a  weary  mile  away,  to  attend  the  "  Ehehaft  teidig- 
nug"  at  St.  Leonhardt. 

While  following  our  friend's  steps  to  this  re-union,  I 
entirely  forgot  to  mention  a  second  very  important  day 
for  the  schoolmaster  guild.  It  is  Candlemas  Day,  on 
which  it  is  his  and  his  deputies'  duty  to  go  the  round 
from  house  to  house,  collecting  money  for  the  wax  candles 
burned  in  the  village  church  throughout  the  year. 

These  collectors  have  no  easy  task  to  perform :  they 
have  to  possess  a  glib  tongue,  and  a  rich  store  of  infor- 
mation of  saintly  personages.  Not  every  one  is  willing  to 
give.  While  one  peasant  complains  that,  notwithstanding 
the  money  he  gave  last  year  towards  St.  Sebastian's  can- 
dles, his  wheat,  when  just  ready  to  cut,  was  entirely  de- 
stroyed by  a  hailstorm  ;  his  neighbor,  again,  will  stubbornly 
refuse  to  contribute  to  St.  Leonhardt,  the  patron  of  cattle, 
on  the  ground  that  the  two  florins  which  he  had  spent 
on  that  saint  the  previous  year  had  been  more  than  thrown 
away,  as  two  head  of  his  herd  had  perished  by  slipping 
down  a  precipice.  All  manner  of  threats  have  to  be 
urged  ere  a  stingy  skeptic  will  hand  over  his  mite. 
"St.  Blasius"  will  strike  him  with  fell  disease;  "St.  Flo- 
rian,"  the  protector  against  fire,  will  make  a  bonfire  of 
his  farm ;  or  "  St.  Apolonia  "  will  torment  him  with  an 
attack  of  maddening  toothache.  No  saint  will  suffer 
himself  to  be  snubbed  or  slighted,  and  woe  to  the  traitor 
who  would  jeopardize  the  welfare  of  the  whole  village  by 
his  treasonable  parsimony !  The  peasant  whose  wits 
have  been  sharpened  by  his  misplaced  confidence  the 
}ear  before  is  finally  won  over,  and  grudgingly  pays  his 


THE    I'lLLAGE  SCHOOLMASTER.  151 

money-offering,  leaving  the  choice  of  the  saint  to  his 
woman-folk.  The  wife,  who  perhaps  has  no  money  to  give 
away,  offers  the  collector  a  couple  of  knots  of  hemp,  or 
a  quarter-sack  of  fine  flour,  or  a  stone-weight  of  butter, 
as  her  own  special  contribution.  If  there  are  any  lasses 
in  the  house,  they  will  secretly  press  a  shilling  into  his 
hand,  and  whisper  to  him  the  magic  name  of  St.  Kilian,  a 
saint  who  occupies  a  somewhat  ambiguous  position  among 
his  colleagues,  for  he  is  not  only  the  protector  of  tur- 
nips, but  also  the  guardian  of  love,  and  especially  of 
clandestine  amour. 

Were  it  not  indiscreet  to  confidentially  cross-question 
the  collector,  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  into  which 
pocket  (for  it  is  but  natural  to  suppose  that  St.  Kilian 
keeps  the  change  he  receives  in  his  twofold  character, 
properly  separated)  the  poor  maiden's  shilling  found  its 
way. 

Those  that  are  curious  on  this  point  had  better  step 
into  the  village  church  the  following  Sunday  during  ser- 
vice. The  bashful  look  of  the  maiden,  as  she  bends  her 
eyes  upon  the  life-size  figure  of  the  love  saint,  —  whose 
gilt  armor  reflects  the  light  of  her  votive  wax  taper, — 
tells  its  own  tale  ;  and  to  satisfy  us  that  the  shilling  was 
not  wasted  on  turnips,  we  need  not  stop  to  catch  her  fur- 
tive glance  at  her  sturdy,  bright-eyed  lover,  who  is  vainly 
endeavoring  to  fix  his  attention  upon  his  rosary,  as  he 
leans  against  the  opposite  wall  of  the  church.  Ten  years 
hence,  when  St.  Kilian's  services  arc  no  longer  required 
to  keep  the  flame  of  conjugal  love  alive,  but  when  the 
family's  welfare  is  sorely  dependent  upon  the  thriving 
condition  of  their  turnip-crop,  St.  Kilian  will  probably  find 
himself  again  the  object  of  their  prayer.  What  with  love 
and  turnips,  and  turnips  and  love,  we  may  suppose  Kilian's 
saintly  memory  must  be  put  to  a  sore  test. 

The  collector  is  about  to  leave  the  peasant's  cottage, 
satisfied  with  his  harvest,  when  out  rushes  the  youngest 
of  the  household,  a  little  girl  of  twelve  or  thirteen,  housed 
and  fed  by  the  peasant  for  charity's  sake,  and,  running  up 
to  the  man,  presses  a  penny  into  his  hand,  exclaiming 
in  childlike  innocence,  — 


152    GADDINGS  WJTH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


"  I  have  naught  else  to  give  you,  for  I  have  nothing 
but  a  pair  of  new  shoes,  and  a  dear  old  mother  ill  in  bed 
at  home." 

When  asked  for  what  saint  the  modest  offering  was 
destined,  she  replies,  — 

"  For  my  patron,  to  remind  him  to  guard  over  my  flock 
of  goats." 

Poor  little  thing  !  What  a  tale  those  words  tell  of  an 
ever-present  dread  that  one  of  her  wild  and  willful  charges 
should  come  to  harm,  —  of  a  constant  fear  that,  by  some 
accidental  mishap,  she  should  be  deprived  of  her  wretched 
pittance,  amounting  probably  to  no  more  than  fourpence 
a  week.  How  anxiously  her  eyes  watch  her  penny- 
piece  disappear  into  the  capacious  pockets  of  the  great 
man,  and  how  her  little  heart  flutters  to  hear  from  his 
benign  lips  that  henceforth  her  patron  saint  will  guard 
and  watch  over  her  flock  !  And  yet  what  had  she  done  ? 
Given  away  a  quarter  of  lier  weekly  earnings  —  to  her 
a  vast  sum  —  which  usually  procured  some  little  luxury 
for  her  poor  bedridden  old  mother. 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  153 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ALPINE   CHARACTERS  :    THE   ANTIQUARIAN   IN  TYROL. 

NO  doubt  many  of  the  facts  mentioned  in  the  preced- 
ing chapters,  especially  those  in  connection  with  the 
religious  life  in  Tyrol,  must  sound  strange  to  English  ears  ; 
and  very  likely  many  readers  will  ask  how  it  is  that  I  have 
so  far  penetrated  into  the  mysteries  of  the  clerical,  no 
less  than  of  the  scholastic  cloth.  I  divulge  the  secret  of 
my  success  with  evil  forebodings,  for  I  confess  to  belong 
to  those  unintelligible  beings  whose  soul  is  tainted  by  a 
love,  not  for  the  modern,  but  for  the  old  and  bygone.  In 
fact,  I  confess  to  being  an  amateur  antiquarian  —  a  curi- 
osity-hunter if  you  will. 

How  many  quires  could  I  fill  with  accounts  of  strange 
adventures  and  ludicrous  incidents  which  have  befallen 
me  while  in  pursuit  of  that  all-engrossing  sport  among  the 
mountains  of  Tyrol ! 

A  glance  around  the  room  in  which  I  am  writing,  a 
view  of  the  table,  one  look  at  the  walls,  carries  me  back 
to  the  modest  little  chalet,  the  ruined  old  castle,  the  crazy 
old  mansion,  the  quaint  old  inn,  the  tumble-down  me- 
diaeval church,  each  the  scene  of  some  happy  discovery 
or  some  spirited  barter.  I  am  surrounded  by  trophies  of 
that  chase. 

In  a  previous  chapter  I  endeavored  to  depict  the  all- 
engrossing  charms  of  chamois-stalking.  I  now  want  to 
do  the  same  in  respect  to  curiosity-hunting,  for  in  my 
eyes  the  latter  is  a  sport  no  less  keen  than  the  former. 

But  chamois  and  antiquities  are  getting  decidedly 
and  while  the  next  generation  will  perhaps  be  the 


154    CADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

one  to  kill  the  last  venerable  old  buck  in  Tyrol,  I  fear  it 
will  be  the  present  one's  lot  to  buy  up  the  last  old  chest 
and  the  last  old  tankard. 

The  knack  of  curiosity-hunting,  no  less  than  that  of 
chamois-stalking,  can  only  be  acquired  by  long  practice, 
and  one  who  has  not  passed  a  thorough  apprenticeship  to 
either  sport  will  assuredly  blunder  on  some  important 
point  the  very  first  time  he  is  out. 

It  will  probably  amaze  our  readers  to  hear  that  a  poor 
country  —  and  Tyrol  undoubtedly  is  that  —  should  har- 
bor works  of  art  of  any  sort.  In  a  cottage  in  England 
how  rarely  does  one  stumble  upon  a  carved  or  inlaid  cab- 
inet, or  a  curious  old  book,  say  of  the  first  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century  ! 

Twenty  years  ago,  I  may  safely  say,  there  was  no  house 
in  the  whole  Tyrolese  country  that  did  not  possess  some 
article  of  vertu.  Perhaps  it  was  but  an  old  halberd  curi- 
ously engraved,  or  a  helmet,  or  a  broad  two-handed 
sword,  or  a  rusty  shirt  of  mail  —  all  relics  of  the  time 
when  the  peasant  owner  of  the  house  was  chained  to  the 
soil  as  a  noble's  "  villain."  Or,  to  speak  of  furniture,  no 
house  was  without  a  couple  of  those  curious  old  wedding 
chests,  generally  painted  with  allegorical  designs,  often 
inlaid,  and  now  and  then  beautifully  carved  in  oak  in  the 
rich  style  of  the  Renaissance. 

Nothing  can  give  one  a  better  idea  of  the  very  promi- 
nent state  of  ail  trades  connected  with  art  in  the  fifteenth 
and  sixteenth  centuries  in  Tyrol,  than  to  hear  of  the  vast 
amount  of  the  exquisite  pieces  of  workmanship  of  that 
period  which  have  been  discovered  in  this  country,  in  the 
course  of  the  last  thirty  years. 

The  South  Kensington  Museum  possesses,  to  my  knowl- 
edge, six  or  seven  very  valuable  objects  of  Tyrolese  origin, 
which  were  bought  for  very  considerable  sums. 

The  well-known  curiosity  trade  of  Munich  and  Vienna 
drew  its  chief  stock  from  this  small  country.  No  wonder 
that  the  once  immensely  rich  mine  has  been  all  but  ex- 
hausted. It  is  only  by  dint  of  the  most  minute  search, 
of  the  most  indefatigable  labor,  that  one  succeeds  now- 


THE  ANTIQUAKIAX  J.V  TYROL.  155 

adays  in  securing  a  treasure.  But  then,  does  not  that  one 
piece  —  perhaps  a  rare  old  Gothic  cabinet,  with  a  huge 
lock  and  queer  out-of-the-way  drawers,  and  secret  springs, 
bought  for  less  than  a  pound  sterling ;  or  a  couple  of  huge 
halberds,  on  the  surface  of  which,  after  carefully  removing 
the  rust  of  centuries,  you  find  the  armorial  bearings  of 
some  well-known  noble  house  etched  in  first-rate  workman- 
ship —  repay  one  for  endless  trouble  ?  Far  greater  than 
the  mere  knowledge  of  having  acquired  a  decidedly  good 
haul,  does  the  soiippn  please  you  of  having  succeeded  in 
your  endeavors  to  drive  a  good  bargain. 

The  owner  is  stubborn  :  for  instance,  he  "  won't  part 
with  it ;  the  cabinet,"  he  says,  "has  been  in  his  family  for 
centuries,  and  he  won't  sell  it.  His  son,"  pointing  to  a 
lout  sitting  at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  "  might  per- 
haps part  with  it  when  once  he  is  master  of  the  con- 
cern." 

You  look  at  the  peasant,  and  you  find  him  a  hale  and 
robust  man  in  the  prime  of  life.  Your  heart  sinks  within 
you  ;  and  if  you  are  a  "green  one  "  you  turn  glum,  and 
leave  the  house  disgusted  witli  your  bad  luck.  This  3'ou 
v/ill  do  if  you  are  a  new  hand  at  it,  and  have  no  knowl- 
edge of  the  character  of  the  peasantry,  their  weak  and 
their  strong  points. 

There  is  one  golden  rule  which,  if  it  is  strictly  followed, 
will  very  nearly  always  land  you  as  victor  at  a  fifth  of  the 
costs  which  would  have  arisen  had  you  pressed  on  in  un- 
due haste.  It  is  patience,  —  nothing  more  nor  nothing 
less. 

How  tantalizing  it  is  to  be  obliged  to  sit  there  and  talk 
to  the  phlegmatic  old  peasant,  owner  of  some  priceless 
treasure  you  have  discovered  stowed  away  in  the  inner- 
most recesses  of  the  lumber-corner  in  the  cellar  or  under 
the  roof ! 

"Talk?"  Yes,  but  not  of  the  subject  that  is  upper- 
most in  your  mind ;  but  of  the  state  of  the  crops,  of  the 
weather,  of  the  lastyiVif  day  village  fight,  in  fact,  of  any 
thing  and  every  thing  save  the  bargain.  While  your 
hand  itches  to  snatch  out  your  purse  to  give  him   the 


156     GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

money  he  may  ask  for  it,  it  has  to  wander  in  your  coat- 
pocket  to  produce  your  tobacco-pouch,  to  be  handed  to 
the  old  villain,  who  has  sniffed  the  air,  remarking,  "  That's 
good  tobacco  you  are  smoking." 

There  goes  an  ounce  at  least  of  your  prized  English 
bird's-eye,  to  fill  the  huge  bowl  of  the  peasant's  pipe,  he 
stuffing  it  down  with  his  little  finger  into  the  seemingly 
bottomless  receptacle. 

Now  he  lights  it  leisurely,  puffs  a  few  whiffs,  and  with  a 
solemn  "Yes,  yes,"  he  sinks  back  in  his  chair  to  enjoy 
the  luxury  of  a  good  smoke,  with  that  phlegmatic  repose 
peculiar  to  the  peasant  class.  What  do  you  care  to  hear 
the  praise  of  your  tobacco?  You  know  it's  good,  and 
that  is  sufficient  for  you.     You  sit  on  pins  and  needles. 

But  patience,  patience  ;  the  peasant  has  promised  to  go 
up  with  you  under  the  roof  "  by  and  by,"  to  look  at  that 
"crazy  old  lumber-chest,"  as  he  terms  that  priceless 
Gothic  cabinet  the  son  showed  you  a  few  hours  before. 

You  are  certain  it  is  not  only  carved,  but  also  inlaid 
with  different  kinds  of  wood ;  but  the  thick  coat  of  dust 
and  dirt  hid  the  details  of  the  workmanship  from  your 
view ;  and  the  presence  of  the  lout  standing  at  your  side, 
half  muttering  to  himself  that  "  it's  better,  after  all,  he  did 
not  chop  it  up  for  firewood,  as  he  did  t'other  last  year," 
detains  you  from  examining  it  closer. 

You  are  burning  with  the  desire  to  convince  yourself 
of  the  truth  of  your  supposition,  but  you  must  not  move  ; 
the  magic  "  by  and  by  "  of  the  owner  chains  you  to  your 
chair.  You  answer  the  tiresome  questions  in  a  sprightly 
chafiing  tone,  while  in  your  heart  you  curse  the  question- 
er's unbearable  phlegm. 

To  your  horror,  the  buxom  daughter  now  enters  the 
room,  and,  after  placing  a  napkin  on  the  table,  puts  the 
huge  pan  of  Schmarn,  the  peasant's  dinner,  in  its  center. 
The  bell,  hanging  in  the  miniature  belfry  on  the  roof 
of  the  house,  is  set  in  motion ;  the  farm-servants  file  into 
the  room  one  by  one,  and  stand  round  the  table  saying 
grace  prior  to  sitting  down. 

You  sit  by,  and  watch  the  contents  of  the  huge  pan 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  157 

disappear.  The  people  seem  ravenous ;  will  they  never 
stop  eating?  3'ou  think.  "Oh,  no  !  there's  yet  half  of  its 
contents  left,  but  no  sign  of  flagging  energy  is  visible." 
On  they  eat,  slowly  and  phlegmatically,  as  they  do  most 
things. 

Ah  !  now  the  bottom  of  the  iron  vessel  becomes  visible. 
Another  five  minutes,  and  the  sides  are  scraped  clean. 

"  We  want  fine  weather,  you  see,  sir,  and  now  we'll 
have  it,"  remarks  the  master  of  the  house  laughingly,  al- 
luding to  an  old  saying  that  "  a  clean  pan  brings  clean 
weather." 

The  company  rise  and  say  grace.  The  peasant,  while 
we've  been  addressing  a  few  words  to  one  of  the  plump 
maidservants,  whom  we  happened  to  meet  on  an  Alp  last 
summer,  has  sat  himself  down  again,  and  before  we  have 
time  to  interpose  he  has  relit  his  furnace. 

"Just  let  me  finish  this  pipe,"  he  says,  as  w'ith  annoy- 
ance painted  in  every  line  of  your  features  you  bite  your 
lips  and  pull  out  your  watch. 

By  an  almost  superhuman  effort  you  restrain  your  anger, 
and  reply  quite  sprightly,  — 

"Oh!  my  good  fellow,  don't  hurry  yourself :  that  old 
lumber-chest  can  wait  another  quarter  of  an  hour,  it  has 
waited  patiently  so  many  hundred  years." 

Your  eyes  belie  your  words,  for  they  roll  about  in  an 
agony  of  suspense. 

"Yes,  that  tobacco  of  yours  is  decidedly  first-rate 
stuff,"  the  old  rascal  continues.  "  I  should  say  that  it 
cost  at  least  fifty  or  sixty  kreutzers  (a  shilling  or  fourteen 
pence)  a  pound,  eh?" 

What  are  you  to  answer  to  this  insult,  unintentional  as 
it  may  be  ?  If  you  tell  hira  that  he  is  somewhat  mis- 
taken, and  own  that  you  paid  about  six  times  as  much, 
you  would  spoil  all ;  for  the  man  would  then  see  that  your 
coat  need  not  necessarily  be  a  worn  old  shooting-jacket, 
and  that  if  you  can  afford  to  smoke  such  expensive  to- 
bacco, you  can  pay  at  least  treble  the  sum  he  originally 
would  have  asked  for  the  cabinet. 

The  old  fellow  pufi's  away  at  his  pipe,  which  seemingly 


158    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

is  never  coming  to  an  end.  Ah,  at  last !  Slowly  knock- 
ing out  the  ashes,  he  replaces  it  in  his  breast-pocket,  and 
rising,  proceeds  to  lead  the  way  out  of  the  room,  up  the 
narrow,  ladder-like  stairs,  to  the  loft  under  the  roof. 

You  follow  with  a  beating  heart,  and  approach  the  cor- 
ner where  the  cabinet  is  standing  amid  a  heap  of  rubbish, 
pieces  of  old  harness,  broken  agricultural  implements,  and 
cracked  pots  and  pans.  "  Will  he  try  any  game  on  me  ?  " 
you  ask  yourself,  as  he  proceeds  to  push  aside  the  heap 
of  rubbish  in  order  to  get  close  up  to  the  chest.  You 
are  longing  to  follow,  just  one  rub  with  the  moist  finger  is 
all  you  want ;  but  you  dare  not.  A  broken  barrel  is  close 
by :  you  sit  down  upon  it,  and  assume  a  stoical  air  of  in- 
difiercncc  while  the  peasant  is  circling  about  the  prized 
object,  now  pulling  out  a  drawer,  now  trying  the  lock  and 
key,  now  giving  it  a  rough  shove  which  nearly  sends  it 
toppling  over. 

"  Well,  peasant,"  you  open  conversation,  "  how  much 
must  I  give  you  for  it  ?  You  see  yourself  it's  a  rubbishing 
old  chest,  sadly  out  of  repair,  and  probably  it  will  hardly 
bear  the  transport  down  to  the  next  village,  from  whence 
I  can  have  it  fetched  in  a  cart." 

"Well,"  he  says,  " v.'hen  I  was  in  'Sprugg  (meaning 
Innsbruck)  the  last  time,  four  years  come  Whitsuntide,  I 
sav/ a  chest  very  like  this  in  a  shop-window,  and  a  ticket 
on  it,  with  two  hundred  florins  marked  on  the  paper." 
(Our  heart  is  in  our  mouth.)  "  But  of  course  there  must 
have  been  something  very  valuable  inside  the  chest,  per- 
haps some  jewels  in  one  of  the  drawers." 

"Very  likely,"  you  press  out  in  an  agony  of  despair; 
and  by  a  supreme  effort  you  re-assume  the  sprightly  jocu- 
lar tone,  exclaiming  that  you  want  but  the  chest,  not  the 
jewels  inside. 

"I  guess  there  are  none  in  this,"  the  peasant  replies, 
"  so  we'll  say  a  tener  (ten  florins,  less  than  a  pound),  and 
a  couple  of  pipes  of  your  tobacco." 

You  breathe  again,  relieved  from  the  hundred-ton 
weight  that  has  been  resting  on  your  mind  since  that  fatal 
account  of  the  visit  to   'Sprugg.     "Well,  I  don't  mind 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  159 

giving  you  ten  florins,  if  you  will  transport  it  down  to  tlie 
next  village." 

I'his  the  peasant  won't  do ;  and  after  a  quarter  of  an 
hour's  haggling,  you  buy  the  chest  for  eight  florins  (six- 
teen shillings),  agreeing  to  take  it  down  at  your  own  ex- 
pense and  rislc. 

"And  for  what  may  you  want  that  lumbering  box?" 
the  peasant  asks,  as  you  descend  the  ladder-hke  stairs 
into  the  general  room. 

In  this  instance  there  was  no  maneuvering  to  speak  of. 
Quite  differently  have  you  to  handle  a  peasant  who  knows 
that  the  old  sword,  the  curious  cabinet,  has  a  certain  value 
beyond  that  of  old  iron  or  of  firewood.  For  five  and 
six  times  you  have  to  visit  him,  and  a  year  or  eighteen 
months  will  perhaps  have  to  elapse  ere  you  can  close  the 
bargain. 

In  villages  near  towns,  the  peasant  population  know  by 
experience  that  antiquities  command  high  prices.  Igno- 
rant of  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  antiquities,"  they  ask 
monstrous  prices  for  things  perfectly  valueless,  as,  for  in- 
stance, some  picture  daubed  by  some  bygone  village  artist, 
if  only  covered  with  dirt  and  dust,  attains,  in  their  eyes,  a 
priceless  value. 

Again  they  will  bring  you  a  broken  jar,  a  cracked  pot, 
of  the  workmanship  of  some  fifty  years  ago,  and  demand 
its  weight  in  gold  ;  and  when  you  inform  them  that  they 
are  worthless,  they'll  exclaim,  quite  amazed,  "  But  they 
are  old  I  we  thought  you  bought  every  thing  that  is  old  !  " 

To  offer  an  explanation  upon  the  nature  of  the  articles 
you  are  in  search  of,  is  worse  than  useless.  You  have  to 
depend  solely  upon  your  own  talents  at  foraging,  and 
then,  when  you  ha\-e  found  something,  to  manage  to  buy 
it  up  as  cheaply  as  possible.  You  get  laughed  at  behind 
your  back,  whether  you  give  a  high  price  or  a  low  one. 
The  fancy  for  the  old,  not  alone  on  account  of  its  being 
old,  but  on  account  of  the  fine  workmanship,  the  taste, 
and  the  interest  one  attaches  very  naturally  to  an  object 
that  was  in  use  three  or  four  centuries  ago,  is  wholly  in- 
explicable to  the  simple  minded  peasantry,  who  admire  a 


l6o    GADDIiYGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

plain  deal  chest  daubed  with  red,  green,  and  blue  flowers 
and  ornaments,  far  more  than  the  finely-chiseled,  rare 
old  cabinet  in  the  pure  Gothic  or  in  the  rich  Renais- 
sance style. 

The  schoolmaster  is  the  first  person  in  a  village  to  whom 
curiosity-hunters  should  apply,  not  only  because  he  is  the 
most  likely  person  to  know  the  whereabouts  of  "old 
things  "  in  his  village,  but  also  because  he  is  the  guardian 
of  the  church,  and  in  that  character  a  personage  whose 
complaisant  favor  one  has  to  secure  at  any  cost. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  though  most  of  the  village 
churches  are  very  old,  dating  back  their  history  to  the 
thirteenth,  fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  centuries,  the  outward 
signs  of  their  age  have  been  ruthlessly  ravaged  by  the 
iconoclastic  improvers  of  the  last  century.  The  disas- 
trous preference  for  rococo,  or,  as  the  Germans  have  ap- 
propriately nicknamed  it,  the  pigtail  style,  superseded  by 
a  branch  of  architectural  mannerism,  that  most  vile  of  all 
styles,  the  Jesuit's  (called  so  on  account  of  its  gaudy  prod- 
igality), stripped  the  majority  of  Tyrolese  churches  of  the 
pure  severe  lines  of  the  Gothic  and  of  the  rich  but  no 
less  pure  details  of  the  early  Renaissance  ornamental  de- 
signs tliat  adorned  their  interior  and  exterior,  and  meta- 
morphosed them  into  the  highly  inartistic  structures  that 
pain  one's  eyes  in  some  Tyrolese  valleys. 

One  could  hardly  furnish  a  more  striking  instance  of 
the  slavish  inthrallment  of  the  human  mind  in  the 
shackles  of  fashion  than  by  pointing  out  the  bulky,  lum- 
bering structures  resembling  two  turnips  piled  one  upon 
the  other,  that  were  created  in  the  Jesuitical  era,  in  lieu 
of  the  tapering,  needle-shaped  spires,  so  elegant  in  their 
simplicity,  and  so  eminently  suitable  to  mountain  land- 
scape. 

Fortunately  for  the  country,  and  thanks  to  the  strenu- 
ous efforts  of  the  present  day,  these  relics  of  a  very  taste- 
less period  are  gradually  disappearing.  The  decorations 
v/hich  fell  a  prey  to  the  ruthless  hand  of  the  last  century 
were  either  thrown  or  given  away,  or  they  were  stowed 
pell-mell  under  the  roof  of  the  church.     In  the  latter 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  l6l 

place,  therefore,  an  exceedingly  rich  harvest  of  curiosities 
was  to  made  some  ten  or  fifteen  years  ago.  Nowadays,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  they  have  been  ransacked  over  and  over 
again  by  the  greedy  hands  of  dealers  from  Innspruck, 
Municli,  or  Vienna.  There  is  perhaps  not  a  church  in 
the  whole  country  that  has  not  been  visited  by  some  of 
these. 

Rich  prizes  were  to  be  made  —  old  Venetian  candela- 
bra of  colored  glass,  Gothic  cabinets  of  the  very  best 
workmanship,  life-size  figures  of  saints,  carved  by  the 
hands  of  artists,  and  rare  scroll-work  in  oak  and  iron. 
Over  all  these  things  the  schoolmasters  in  their  character 
of  sexton  were  the  guardians,  and  as  many  of  them  fan- 
cied they  knew  something  of  "old  things"  in  general, 
one  had  to  be  a  good  hand  to  bring  over  one's  bird  with- 
out an  extra  expenditure  of  powder. 

To  odd  stratagems  one  had  to  resort,  which,  examined 
by  a  strong  light,  would  not  iniiequently  leave  a  tiny  but 
yet  perceptible  spot  on  the  characters  of  our  heroes.  But 
while  groping  about  in  the  dark  corners  of  the  church- 
loft,  one  was  not  incommoded  by  the  light  of  day.  It 
was  dark  work  in  both  senses.  I  have  known  four  and 
five  big  cart-loads  of  cabinets,  chests,  candelabra,  carved 
decorations,  pieces  of  iron  scroll-work,  carried  off  from 
one  single  modest  little  Tyrolese  village  church,  the  whole 
cargo  being  sold  for  a  trifle,  while  a  worthless  old  daub 
owned  by  the  sexton,  or  by  the  priest,  if  he  were  of  a  very 
meddling  disposition,  would  fetch  a  hundred  florins  or 
even  more.  The  fact  that  all  moneys  accruing  from 
church  property  replenish  the  foundation's  exchequer, 
explains  the  excessive  price  of  the  daub. 

In  many  instances,  specially  in  those  where  the  peas- 
ant owner  of  some  curiosity  of  value  knows  its  merits,  or 
has  formed  an  exaggerated  opinion  regarding  the  price 
he  can  demand,  the  curiosity-hunter  flies  to  the  village 
schoolmaster.  To  him  he  lays  open  his  heart,  promis- 
ing him  not  only  his  eternal  gratitude,  but  a  handsome 
douceur,  if  he  succeeds  in  capturing  the  prized  article  at 
a  more  moderate  price. 


l62    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE.  ' 

Stalking  chamois  and  hunting  for  curiosities  —  the  cue 
a  work  of  nature,  the  other  that  of  man  —  are  two  pur- 
suits that  seemingly  can  never  be  combined,  and  yet  in 
Tyrol  they  can. 

Curiosities,  it  is  true,  are  not  to  be  found  among  peaks 
and  glaciers,  and  chamois  eschew  the  haunts  of  man.  If 
the  reader  wishes  to  know  how  this  anomalous  end  can 
be  brought  about,  let  him  follow  my  steps  as  I  set  out  on 
one  of  my  expeditions,  which  (let  us  take  a  common  in- 
stance) is  the  result  of  an  invitation  to  hunt  chamois  in  a 
distant  district,  belonging  maybe  to  a  peasant  community, 
or  perhaps  to  a  sportsman  of  high  rank.  Were  we  to  put 
our  best  foot  foremost,  we  might  possibly  reach  our  goal 
in  one  day  ;  but  we  prefer  to  take  it  easy,  and  decide  to 
cover  the  distance,  some  twenty  hours'  march,  in  two 
days.  My  kit  compactly  stowed  in  our  ample  "  Ruck- 
sack," a  species  of  haversack,  and  much  preferable  to  a 
knapsack,  consists  only  of  the  most  necessary  articles, 
and  hence  does  not  interfere  with  marching  efficiency, 
for  as  yet  it  has  not  been  augmented  by  the  dead  weight 
of  rations  for  two  or  three  days'  consumption,  and,  in- 
cluding the  rifle,  hardly  exceeds  fifteen  or  twenty  pounds. 

By  starting  before  daybreak,  we  gain  three  or  four 
hours'  rest  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  They  are,  how- 
ever, not  spent  in  after-lunch  laziness,  for  our  six  hours' 
forenoon  stroll  along  pleasant  paths  over  pass  and  Alpine 
mead  has  acted  as  an  invigorating  stimulant,  and  anti- 
quarian lust  has  taken  possession  of  the  soul.  The  frugal 
but  ample  ten-o'clock  dinner  dispatched,  we  leave  rifle 
and  haversack  at  the  inn,  and  stroll  down  the  village  to 
the  simple  little  church.  Before  we  reach  it  we  perceive 
the  village  priest,  followed  by, the  verger-schoolmaster, 
issue  from  the  porch.  The  black  flowing  robes  of  the 
former  flutter  and  stream  in  the  wind,  as  with  long  strides 
the  man  of  God  hastens  to  his  dinner.  Both  recall  to  us 
Cowper's  lines,  — 

"  There  goes  the  parson,  oh  !  illustrious  spark ! 
And  there,  scarce  less  illustrious,  goes  the  clerk." 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  163 

They  pass  unnoticed  the  stranger,  whose  individuahty 
is  successtully  secreted  behiml  the  worn  country  guise 
and  battered  hat ;  and  after  watching  them  into  their  re- 
spective houses,  we  are  free  to  enter  the  sacred  edifice. 
A  glance  at  its  architecture,  and  another  at  its  interior 
decorations,  tell  us  what  we  want  to  know.  The  building, 
originally  of  Gothic  construction,  as  is  betrayed  by  the 
clean-cut  arches  and  well-molded  pillars,  no  less  than 
by  the  noble  fifteenth-century  portal,  bears  in  every  de- 
tail that  stamp  of  fell  eighteenth-century  Vandalism  per- 
petrated by  the  Jesuits.  The  stucco-ceiling  daubed  with 
pink  and  blue,  the  gaudy  altar  of  gilt  woodwork,  and 
countless  pot-beUied  angels  scattered  about  with  terrible 
profuseness,  the  chancel,  stripped  of  its  old  oak  paneling, 
adorned  with  a  glistening  coat  of  varnish  and  gold,  the 
latter  streaked  and  spotted  by  the  damp,  are  in  keeping 
with  the  hideous  windows  and  the  whitewashed  aisle. 
We  know  that  very  probably  the  old  fittings-up  of  the 
church,  the  chiseled  mural  decorations,  the  Renaissance 
altar,  and  the  carved  oak  pews  were,  when  the  ruthless 
hand  of  its  fanatic  renovator  dismantled  the  edifice,  stored 
away  as  so  much  waste  lumber  in  the  church-loft,  or  in 
the  top  story  of  the  bell-tower.  The  door  to  the  latter 
is  open,  and  we  hasten  up  the  gloomy  creaking  steps,  and 
mount  the  ladder  that  gives  ingress  into  the  dark,  never- 
visited  loft.  We  are  at  home  in  these  regions,  otherwise 
it  would  be  breakneck  work ;  for  the  numerous  holes  cut 
in  the  floor,  through  which  the  workmen  are  let  down 
when  whitewashing  the  ceiling,  are  man-traps  of  a  very 
treacherous  kind ;  rotten  planks  cover  them,  and  one 
false  step  will  send  you  down  the  giddy  depth.  Alas  ! 
the  first  gleam  of  the  pocket-lantern,  which  I  always 
carry  on  these  occasions,  shows  that  others  have  been 
before  us,  and  that  the  treasures  have  been  carried  off 
by  the  marauding  hands  of  a  dealer,  or  by  one  of  the 
many  private  collectors  of  Innsbruck  or  Alunich.  We 
grope  about  the  dismal  place ;  dust  an  inch  in  depth 
covers  the  huge  cross-beams  and  the  floor.  Our  light 
divulges  to  us  vast  emptiness  wherever  we  turn.      'Ihe 


1 64      GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

group  of  dusky  figures  we  presently  spy  out  looming 
forth  from  one  of  the  corners,  we  discover,  to  our  infinite 
disgust,  to  consist  of  armless  and  headless  saints  of  last 
century's  hideous  make,  piled  up  in  ghastly  array.  Their 
gilt  carcasses,  astounding  in  anatomy,  await  the  day  of 
resurrection  which  will  furnish  them  with  new  heads  and 
arms,  and  place  them  as  a  special  favor  in  the  sacred  pre- 
cincts of  some  remote  little  chapel  too  poor  to  provide 
new  ones.  Next  to  them  stands  a  Virgin  Mary  of  saintly 
memory.  It  is  the  cast-off  figure  of  that  personage  once 
used  at  processions,  but  some  years  back  forced  to  yield 
up  her  supremacy  to  a  larger  and  if  possible  more  gaudy 
image.  Her  waxen  face  is  blanched,  and  the  vacant 
smile  about  her  mouth  is  rendered  all  the  more  specter- 
like by  her  eyeless  sockets  and  her  hairless  head,  for  with 
her  retirement  from  public  life  she  had  to  relinquish  her 
azure  glass  orbs  and  her  full  wig  of  blonde  curls,  and  both 
now  grace  the  head  of  her  successor  and  rival. 

We  descend  the  steps  disappointed  mortals  ;  and  our 
ill-humor  is  not  allayed,  when  on  meeting  the  verger- 
schoolmaster  in  front  of  the  church,  we  put  him  under 
cross-examination,  and  elicit  that  the  loft  was  cleared  by 
a  Jew  dealer  in  antiquities  a  year  or  two  back. 

"  We  were  very  glad,  I  can  tell  you,  to  get  rid  of  the 
rubbish  ;  and  though  he  gave  me  but  a  trifle  for  the  whole 
lot,  it  must  have  cost  him  a  good  deal  to  get  the  things 
away,  there  was  such  a  quantity.  Far  better  that  the  loft 
is  once  more  nice  and  empty,  and  not  filled  with  old 
wood  and  worm-eaten  bits  of  carving." 

We  are  too  vexed  to  say  much,  so  let  the  old  idiot  talk 
on. 

Presently  his  eldest  grandchild,  a  boy  of  some  ten  or 
twelve  years  of  age,  comes  running  up,  giving  him  the  huge 
bunch  of  enormous  keys  he  had  forgotten  when  he  left 
his  home. 

This  reminds  us  that  we  have  not  yet  seen  the  sacristy, 
and,  slipping  some  trifling  coin  into  the  man's  hand,  we 
ask  him  to  show  it  us.  Tliis  the  talkative  old  fellow  does 
most  willingly. 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  165 

Our  eyes,  sharpened  by  our  cantankerous  mood,  are 
on  the  look-out  for  stray  straws ;  and  presently  we  detect, 
in  a  corner  under  the  steps  leading  to  the  bell-loft,  a  large 
frame  covered  with  dust,  and  tattered  beyond  recognition. 

We  walk  up  to  it  in  our  most  fastidiously  leisurely  man- 
ner, and  after  removing  some  of  the  dust,  we  perceive  it 
is  a  Renaissance  altar-cloth  of  leather  (Antependium), 
used  in  Roman  Catholic  churches  at  that  period.  Its 
exquisite  workmanship,  the  first-rate  designs  embossed 
upon  it  in  gold  and  color,  convince  us  that  were  it  not 
for  its  wTCcked  condition  it  would  be  a  very  valuable  prize. 

'•'  Oh  !  that  was  left  behind  by  the  Jew  ;  he  said  it  was 
torn  beyond  reparation,  and  no  wonder,  for  I  well  remem- 
ber, when  I  was  a  boy,  we  used  it  as  a  target ;  but  since 
the  Jew  was  here  I  discovered  another  one  just  like  it, 
but  not  a  hole  in  it." 

"  Well,  and  where  is  it  now?  "  one  of  us  demands  in 
as  steady  a  voice  as  he  can  command. 

"  Oh  !  the  leather  being  thick  and  perfect,  I  took  it 
home,  scraped  the  gold  from  it,  and  gave  it  my  daughter, 
who,  you  must  know,  has  a  lot  of  brats,  and  can  use  it 
capitally  for  mending  her  boys'  trousers." 

A  shiver  goes  through  our  bodies  as  we  hear  this,  and 
for  the  rest  of  our  interview  with  the  verger  we  are  silent. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  a  bit  left  which  I  could  show  you,  as 
you  seem  to  take  interest  in  these  things,"  are  words 
which  recall  us  to  ourselves,  and  we  hasten  to  notify  our 
assent. 

We  reach  the  cottage,  and  enter  the  general  room, 
where  sits,  busy  at  her  spinning-wheel,  the  buxom  daughter. 

"There  is  nothing  left  of  the  leather,  father,"  she 
replies  to  the  old  man's  query,  "  for  I  used  the  last  to 
make  Johnnie  a  new  pair  of  house  shoes;  but  here," 
cries  she,  and,  opening  the  door,  calls  in  two  or  three  of 
her  male  progeny,  playing  in  front  of  the  house,  "  come 
here,  Franzel,"  and  poor  Franzel,  trembling  all  over,  is 
taken  in  hand  by  his  mother,  and  laid  across  her  knees, 
and  lo  !  a  large  patch  of  leather  of  gorgeous  coloring  and 
design,  is  seen  where  litde  boys  first  tear  their  trousers. 


i:66  G ADDING S  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

A  square  of  this  self-same  leather,  much  smaller,  it  is 
true,  than  either  of  the  three  or  four  patches  that  were 
exhibited  to  us  on  the  persons  of  the  leather-bound  little 
fellows,  has  found  a  last  resting-place  among  my  miscel- 
lanies, and  will  always  recall  that  ludicrous  scene. 

But  to  return  to  our  foraging.  Not  always,  fortunately, 
are  dirty  hands  and  dust-begiimed  faces  the  only  rewards 
for  patient  and  thorough  exploration  of  church-lofts. 

Now  and  again  the  lantern  throws  its  friendly  rays  upon 
rich  treasure-trove.  Many  and  various  are  the  spoils  thus 
obtained.  The  beautifully-tinted  antique  Venetian  glass 
chandelier,  in  perfect  preservation,  which  some  fifty  or 
sixty  years  ago  had  to  give  way  to  some  gilt  abomination, 
and  has  since  hung  up  here  unnoticed  and  undusted ; 
rich  pieces  of  carving ;  graceful  caryatides  in  rich  mellow 
oak  of  the  sixteenth  century,  once  part  of  the  Renaissance 
pulpit  or  chancel,  —  all  are  found  in  these  ecclesiastic 
lumber-rooms. 

Discoveries  of  this  kind,  when  they  are  made,  require 
a  cleft  hand.  An  invitation  to  a  quiet  glass  of  wine  in 
the  cozy  wood-paneled  "  Herrenstube  "  in  the  village  inn, 
extended  not  only  to  the  priest,  but  also  to  his  second 
self,  the  verger-schoolmaster,  and,  if  circumstances  are 
such,  also  to  the  housekeeper-cook  of  the  former,  will  be 
the  first  thing  you  do.  At  a  late  hour,  when  all  is  con- 
viviality and  smiles,  the  subject  is  broached,  and  the  bar- 
gain struck,  comprising  the  whole  contents  of  the  loft. 

Exchanges  are  by  no  means  without  the  pale  of  priestly 
dignity.  Here  is  an  instance  :  Some  years  ago  I  was  the 
happy  possessor  of  a  hideous  statue  of  Saint  Michael,  in 
wood,  more  than  life-size,  and  weighing  something  over 
four  hundredweight.  His  exterior  was  such  as  would 
please  rural  tastes  ;  for  though,  being  originally  intended  to 
occupy  an  elevated  position,  his  nether  limbs  were  small, 
out  of  all  proportion,  this  slight  blemish  was  far  out- 
weighed by  his  gaudy  attire,  his  brazen  helmet,  his  gilt 
armor,  and,  as  a  clerical  friend  of  ours  hinted,  by  the 
well-rounded  and  comfortable  "  continuation  of  the  chest." 

I  had  used  him   for  divers   purposes.      His   life-like 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN   TYROL.  167 

shape  made  him  a  capital  target  for  long-distance  pistol 
practice  —  "potting  our  saint,"  as  friends  used  to  term 
that  sportive  amusement.  His  enormous  weight  once 
caused  him  to  be  used  as  counterpoise  for  the  house 
crane,  and  an  amusing  sight  it  was  to  see  him  bob  up  and 
down.  Then,  having  one  fine  day  discovered  that  his 
huge  inside  was  hollow,  and,  after  a  prolonged  search, 
detected  that  there  was  a  door  in  his  back,  hidden  by  a 
coat  of  thick  paint,  I  forced  him  open,  but  found  him 
empty.  After  that  he  was  used  to  hang  my  wet  shooting- 
coat  and  flannels  on  to  dry.  He  was  decidedly  of  an 
imposing  exterior,  but  never  more  so  than  when  heading, 
in  military  fashion,  my  twelve  apostles  —  life-size  figures, 
creatures  of  the  same  abominable  period,  carved  also  in 
solid  wood,  of  which  I  became  the  happy  owner  by  one 
of  my  wholesale  church-loft  purchases.  Plis  top-heavy 
appearance  was  in  perfect  keeping  with  that  of  his  simi- 
larly afflicted  comrades,  who  further  were  distinguished 
by  very  extraordinary  deformities  of  the  body,  and  facial 
contortions.  The  waggish  leer  of  St.  Luke,  the  sportive 
wink  of  St.  John,  the  knowing  look  of  St.  Mark,  and  the 
whining  glance  that  marked  St.  Matthew,  were  not  less 
comic  than  the  gouty  exterior  of  Simon,  the  convulsive 
grasp  of  Peter's  hand  on  his  abdominal  regions,  the  plain- 
tive not  to  say  simpering  manner  in  which  James  held  a 
dove  to  his  breast,  or  the  "  all-over-the-place  "  look  of 
Andrew's  disjointed  body. 

Some  little  time  did  this  distinguished  company  abide 
in  one  of  my  empty  rooms,  and  I  was  seriously  thinking 
of  handing  them  over  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  wood- 
chopper  to  convert  them  into  firewood,  when  an  Ameri- 
can friend,  in  a  weak  moment,  expressed  the  wish  to  pos- 
sess them,  and  to  take  them  to  his  own  country. 

The  next  moment  I  had  presented  him  with  the  twelve 
apostles,  reserving  to  myself,  however,  very  useful  Mi- 
chael. 

They  were  to  be  sent  in  cases,  each  man  having  a  sep- 
arate one  for  himself.  Unfortunately,  pressing  business 
called  me  away,  preventing  my  superintending  the  pack- 


1 68    GADDINGS  V/ITII  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

ing :  so  after  ordering  the  twelve  cases  from  a  country 
joiner,  I  also  deputed  to  him  the  duty  of  fixing  them  in. 
When  I  returned,  this  operation  had  already  been  com- 
pleted ;  for  securely  screwed  down  in  their  cofons,  the 
lids  only  wanting  to  be  nailed  down,  lay  the  twelve 
corpses  in  solemn  state. 

I  passed  along  the  file,  but  suddenly  started  back,  for 
what  —  oh,  horror  !  —  did  I  see  ? 

The  cases  were  all  of  the  same  size,  but  unfortunately 
the  bodies  were  not.  How  was  gouty  Simon,  with  his 
arms  akimbo  and  one  leg  miles  away  from  the  other,  to 
adapt  himself  to  the  same-sized  box  in  which  slim  An- 
drew fitted  easily?  How  was  crane-necked  Peter,  who, 
in  the  agony  of  his  digestive  disorder,  protruded  his 
abdomen  in  a  most  unwieldy  fashion,  to  match  St.  John, 
clothed  in  long  robes,  and  his  arms  hanging  down  in  a 
most  exemplary  manner  at  both  sides  of  his  body? 

In  my  absence,  the  joiner,  a  modern  Columbus,  reme- 
died this  sliort-sighted  error  in  a  radical  manner.  His 
saw  lopped  off  all  obstructions ;  "  for,"  said  he  quite 
quaintly,  "  it  is  much  easier  to  glue  the  pieces  on  than  to 
ma]:e  new  packing-cases." 

Very  true,  but  what  havoc  had  this  fallacy  worked  ! 
Here  was  St.  Mark  minus  his  toes  and  the  dog-like  lion 
that  had  been  squatting  at  his  feet.  There  St.  John  had 
lost  half  of  his  eagle,  while  St.  Luke  had  been  deprived 
of  several  fingers  of  his  right  hand,  and  the  book  they 
held.  Poor  Simon  had  both  his  elbows  chopped  off,  and 
half  of  his  leg.  Colicky  Peter  had  lying  at  his  side  a 
slice  of  his  faulty  organ,  and  half  his  head,  and  the  tip  of 
his  nose,  carefully  wrapped  up  in  paper;  while  Philip, 
Thomas,  and  Bartholomew,  all  three  rather  stout  person- 
ages, could  only,  as  our  joiner  remarked,  be  cajoled  to 
fit  into  their  respective  coffins  by  having  their  backs 
planed  down. 

I  turned  away  from  the  impressive  scene  a  wiser  if  not 
a  better  man  ;  and  half  an  hour  later  the  twelve  victims  of 
country  ignorance  were  carried  down  each  by  four  men  to 
the  long  file  of  one-horse  sleighs  that  were  to  take  them 


♦ 


THE  ANTIQUARIAN  IN  TYROL.  169 

to  the  diiitant  railway-station.  Six  weeks  later  I  received 
the  following  laconic  letter  from  the  New  York  shipping 
agent,  to  whom  the  parcel  had  been  addressed  :  — 

"Dear  Sir, — The  s.s.  'Adele,'from  Rotterdam  to  this  port, 
arrived  here  the  i6th  inst.  As  per  instructions,  we  cleared  your 
parcel  as  'old  woodwork  of  no  value,'  but  the  local  Custom  House 
authorities,  after  appealing  to  the  Upper  Board,  and  consulting 
two  experts,  defined  your  goods  as  '  art  statuary,'  and  as  such  they 
come  under  schedule  seventy-seven. 

"  We  are, 

"  Dear  sir, 

"  Yours  very  obediently, 


So  much  for  the  twelve  apostles,  their  journey  to  a  dis- 
tant clime,  and  their  difficulties  with  schedule  seventy- 
seven.  They  are  now  at  rest,  half  a  dozen  in  a  brand- 
new  Roman  Catholic  chapel,  and  six  adorning  our  friend's 
house  in  the  same  State. 

St.  IMichacl,  after  losing  his  company,  retired  to  an 
empty  lumber-room,  where  he  remained  confined  for  a 
year  or  two,  till  finally  a  priestly  amateur  of  eighteenth- 
century  statuary,  on  being  led  through  the  room,  ex- 
clainied,  enraptured  of  his  vast  proportions  and  august 
demeanor,  — 

"  Ah,  had  we  but  such  a  figure  for  our  new  chapel !  and 
here,"  he  added  with  sly  meaning,  "  here  he  is,  stowed 
away  in  an  empty  room  where  nobody  ever  sees  him." 

I  did  not  like  to  tell  him  that  I  was  of  the  decided 
opinion  that  Michael's  present  abode  was  the  only  one 
befitting  his  extraordinary  exterior ;  and,  not  having  any 
further  use  for  him  in  either  of  his  former  characters,  I 
gracefully  presented  the  delighted  priest  with  this  valuable 
and  ponderous  piece  of  some  benighted  last-century 
wood-carver. 

My  free-handed  generosity  will  be  perhaps  understood 
all  the  better  if  I  betray  that  the  priest,  or  rather  his 
church,  was  owner  of  one  or  two  c/ic/s-d'a'uvre  in  seven- 
teenth-century silk  and  gold-thread  embroidery,  upon 
which,  for  some  time  past,  I  had  fixed  greedy  eyes,  but 


lyo    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

hitherto  ineffectually.  My  expectations  were  not  disap- 
pointed ;  for  now  we  easily  came  to  terms,  and  a  few  days 
later  I  was  in  possession  of  the  articles.  Not  so,  how- 
ever, the  priest,  for  J.Iaster  Michael  was  an  awkward  cus- 
tomer to  deal  with ;  the  chapel  lay  in  a  remote  locality, 
very  difficult  of  access,  no  carriage  or  cart  road  leading 
to  it.  It  was  decided  to  transport  him  up  to  his  desti- 
nation on  the  back  of  a  mule,  but  no  sufficiently-strong 
animal  could  be  found  ;  twice  it  was  tried,  —  the  statue 
strapped  lengthwise  to  the  animal's  back,  but  both  times 
the  beast  broke  down  ;  and  Michael  returned  to  his  home 
to  be  hoisted  up  by  the  crane,  to  which  in  bygone  days 
he  had  acted  as  counterweight,  and  replaced  in  his  lum- 
ber-room. His  owner  maintains  that  the  next  severe 
winter  will  enable  him  to  take  him  up  by  sleigh ;  but 
though  three  winters  have  elapsed,  he  is  yet  in  his  old 
corner.     I  feel  rather  grateful  to  Michael ! 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  171 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALPINE   CHARACTERS  :    THE   WOODCUTTER. 

THOUGH  I  have  not  laid  special  stress  on  the  fact 
that  T^Tol  possesses  certain  characteristics  not  to  be 
met  with  in  other  parts  of  civilized  Europe,  the  reader 
will  no  doubt  have  gathered  this  from  the  preceding 
chapters. 

The  sun-ival  of  an  ancient  type  is  in  no  class  of  the 
population  so  apparent  as  in  the  fraternity  of  the  wood- 
cutters. 

Cut  off  from  the  world,  working  in  solitude  amid  the 
grandest  of  Alpine  scenery,  rough  and  uncouth  in  their 
exterior,  inured  to  every  danger,  and  hardy  to  quite  an 
amazing  degree,  the  "  Holzhacker  "  affords  a  most  inter- 
esting study  not  only  for  the  artist,  but  also  for  those  who 
delight  in  laying  bare  the  vein  of  quaint  originality  mixed 
up  with  the  other  characteristics  of  a  people  untouched 
by  that  species  of  civilization  which  follows  in  the  wake 
of  tourists. 

The  immense  tracts  of  forest  which  are  still  to  be  found 
in  the  northern  and  central  districts  of  Tyrol,  and  which 
afford  the  staple  resources  of  those  parts,  are,  generally 
speaking,  the  property  of  the  Crown. 

A  large  number  of  men  are  employed  by  Government 
in  felling  the  timber,  in  cultivating  new  plantations,  and 
in  keeping  in  repair  the  huge  wood-drifts  which  are  estab- 
lished in  these  parts. 

From  3,000  to  4,000  men  thus  find  sustenance  in  con- 
nection with  the  "  Forstwesen,"  or  management  of  the 
forests,  in  Tyrol. 


172     GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

These  laborers  are  generally  natives  of  neighboring 
valleys,  and  in  most  cases  they  are  younger  sons  of 
peasants,  —  farmers  who  own  the  land  they  till,  —  whose 
miniature  homestead,  consisting  perhaps  of  a  few  acres 
of  the  very  poorest  soil,  or  a  patch  of  meadow  sufficient 
to  keep  three  or  four  cows,  proves  inadequate  to  sustain 
an  increasing  family.  The  eldest  son  usually  remains 
with  the  father,  nominally  inheriting  the  whole  property 
at  his  death. 

I  say  nominally,  as,  by  virtue  of  the  old  laws  of  inher- 
itance passed  in  the  end  of  the  last  century,  a  division  of 
the  property  is  inadmissible,  and  the  happy  nominal  owner 
is  not  a  whit  better,  if  he  be  not  worse,  off  than  his 
brothers ;  for  on  the  death  of  the  father  a  Government 
appraiser  values  the  property,  fixing  the  estimate  rather 
higher  than  the  real  value.  This  sum  is  divided  into  as 
many  equal  shares  as  there  are  sons,  each  of  whom 
receives  a  mortgage  on  the  property  for  the  amount  of 
his  share. 

The  eldest  son,  in  lieu  of  his  share,  takes  possession  of 
the  property,  and  endeavors,  by  dint  of  the  greatest  econ- 
omy and  care,  to  pay  off  mortgage  after  mortgage.  If  he 
fails  in  this,  or  if  he  is  a  spendthrift,  his  children,  if  he 
has  any,  are  doomed  to  be  paupers,  as  a  further  division 
of  their  father's  share  does  not  take  place,  and  the  prop- 
erty is  sold.  Not  infrequently  the  mortgagees,  unwilling 
to  let  their  home  pass  into  strange  hands,  club  together 
and  buy  it  up ;  or,  if  they  cannot  muster  a  sufficient  cap- 
ital betv/een  them,  they  with  one  consent  cancel  the  debt, 
and  install  as  master  of  the  concern  the  one  who  has  the 
most  knowledge  of  farming,  and  in  whom  they  have  the 
most  confidence,  or,  if  none  are  willing  to  undertake 
the  charge,  one  of  their  nephews. 

The  daughters  of  a  peasant  either  receive  a  certain  sum 
as  do\vry,  or,  if  they  are  unmarried  at  their  father's  death, 
the  few  hundred  florins  which  have  been  saved  up  by 
their  parents  fall  to  their  share. 

It  shows  well  for  the  Tyrolese,  that,  in  many  of  the  re- 
moter valleys,  the  peasants  date  the  history  of  their  family 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  173 

and  that  of  their  property  back  for  many  centuries  ;  and 
the  old  crossbows  and  pieces  of  armor,  which  are  fre- 
quently to  be  found  among  the  rubbish  in  the  loft  under 
the  roof,  tell  tales  of  former  bondage  and  serfdom  to  the 
person  of  the  next  knight  or  baron. 

Returning  to  the  lot  of  the  younger  sons,  I  must  here 
mention  that  the  choice  of  their  profession  depends 
entirely  upon  the  customs  which  are  prevalent  in  their 
valley.  Some  few  valleys  furnish  the  wandering  hawkers 
of  carpets  and  manufactures  of  plaited  straw,  that  turn  up 
at  large  fairs  throughout  Europe  ;  and  I  am  speaking  from 
experience  when  I  say  that  no  capital  in  Europe  is  with- 
out a  few  of  them.  The  inhabitants  of  some  glens  have 
acquired  the  art  of  canang  figures  in  wood  ;  other  valleys 
produce  hawkers  of  gloves  and  articles  of  chamois-leather. 
While  one  Alpine  glen  is  celebrated  for  its  "  Kirschwas- 
ser,"  a  spirituous  liquor  distilled  from  cherries,  another  is 
renowned  for  a  particular  kind  of  cheese. 

Three  or  four  centuries  ago,  Tyrol  was  the  richest  min- 
ing country  in  the  world  ;  but  now  most  of  the  prolific 
gold,  silver,  and  copper  mines  are  exhausted,  and  only 
two  or  three  valleys  contain  mines  that  pay. 

In  each  of  the  valleys  I  have  enumerated,  the  whole 
population,  save  perhaps  the  peasant-farmer,  is  interested 
in  the  special  branch  of  occupation  which  is  the  distinc- 
tive feature  of  the  place,  and  which  tends,  in  a  more  or 
less  injurious  manner,  to  make  the  people  acquainted  with 
the  outer  world,  its  ways  and  its  habits;  thereby  occa- 
sioning that  gradual  loss  of  the  ancient  typical  customs 
whose  partial  sur\dval  I  pointed  out  in  my  introductory 
remarks  as  one  of  the  attractive  characteristics  of  Tyrol. 
In  those  valleys  where  forests  form  the  chief  resource  of 
the  inhabitants,  the  results  of  contact  with  the  outer  world 
do  not  appear.  The  occupation  of  a  woodcutter,  the 
scene  of  his  thrifty  labor,  and  his  own  predilection,  take 
him  far  out  of  the  way  of  railways  and  tourists. 

For  seven  or  eight  months  he  is  out  among  the  moun- 
tains ;  the  rest  of  the  year,  when  the  huge  quantity  of 
snow  makes  outdoor  occupation  impossible,  he  retreats  to 


174    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

his  home,  now  doubly  and  trebly  secure  from  any  attempt 
of  a  tourist  to  push  his  way  into  these  nooks  and  corners 
of  the  Eastern  Alps. 

Many  of  these  hardy  fellows  have  never  seen  a  railway, 
and  Eismarck  and  Moltke  might  conquer  the  universe 
without  their  knowing  any  thing  of  it. 

Have  any  of  my  readers  ever  been  asked,  as  I  have, 
if  London  is  a  village  in  Welsch-Tyrol  (the  southern  part, 
where  Italian  is  spoken),  or  if  England  is  a  town  in  Ba- 
varia? Borrowing  the  phrase  from  our  American  cousins, 
I  venture  to  say,  "  I  guess  not !  " 

After  this  digression,  which  was  needed  to  place  the 
character  of  the  woodcutter  in  the  proper  light,  let  us 
return  once  more  to  his  occupation.  The  youngest  and 
strongest  men  among  the  three  or  four  thousand  who,  in 
one  way  or  the  other,  find  employment  in  connection 
with  the  forests,  are  the  fellers  of  timber. 

Their  vocation  is  one  in  which  dangers,  arising  from 
the  most  varied  causes,  and  from  exposure  to  all  the  in- 
clemencies of  a  rough  Alpine  climate,  make  an  iron  con- 
stitution, a  clear  head,  and  powerful  body  indispensable. 
What  would  my  reader,  be  he  a  retired  backwoodsman  or 
not,  think  of  living  from  INIarch  or  April  till  November  on 
a  mountain  slope,  in  the  close  proximity,  perhaps,  of  vast 
snowfields,  and  rarely  at  a  lower  altitude  than  5,000  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea,  in  a  hovel,  the  roof  and  sides 
of  which  are  of  the  thin  and  porous  bark  of  the  pine-tree  ? 
Yet  thus  they  pass  the  summer  months ;  and  more  con- 
tent and  cheerful  fellows  than  they  are  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  find. 

The  dangers  which  beset  their  rugged  path  are  numer- 
ous. They  arise  either  from  their  own  recklessness,  from 
avalanches,  landslips,  or  from  elementary  causes  such  as 
lightning  and  water-spouts. 

Tourists  are  often  astonished  at  the  wonderful  number 
of  sacred  pictures,  shrines,  and  votive  tablets  which  line 
the  highways  and  byways  of  the  country.  In  nine  cases 
out  of  ten,  they  simply  commemorate  a  woodcutter's  vio- 
lent death,  or  some  other  fatal  accident  which  has  taken 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  175 

place  on  or  near  the  spot.  In  the  larger  valleys  these 
votive  tablets  are  generally  some  fearful  specimen  of  the 
brush  of  the  local  stonemason,  who  in  his  leisure  hours 
turns  artist,  and  '-'paints  "  sacred  subjects  to  order.  In 
the  more  remote  valleys,  similar  fatal  occurrences  are  com- 
memorated by  pictures  representing  the  accident  itself. 

Underneath  the  painting  a  few  lines  acquaint  the  passer- 
by with  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  victim,  and  add  a 
request  to  pray  a  couple  of  "  Vater  unser  "  (Paternosters), 
for  the  benefit  of  his  soul.  The  wording  of  these  epi- 
taphs is,  if  it  were  possible,  even  more  ludicrous  than  the 
style  of  the  picture  which  heads  them.  Two  or  three 
samples,  literally  translated,  will  corroborate  this. 

In  the  first  we  see  a  falling  tree,  under  which,  spread- 
eagle  fashion,  lies  a  man.  The  epitaph  runs  :  "  Johann 
Lemberger,  aged  52I  years.  This  upright  and  virtuous 
youth'  (Jungling)  was  squashed  by  a  falling  tree  on  the 
nth  December,  1849.  Pious  passers-by  are  implored  to 
say  three  Lord's  Prayers  to  redeem  his  tortured  soul  from 
the  fires  of  purgatory." 

The  second  represents  a  woman  falling  down  a  preci- 
pice ;  the  epitaph  runs  as  follows  :  "  On  that  rock  yonder 
perished  the  virtuous  and  honored  maiden,  Maria  Nau- 
ders,  in  her  twenty-second  year.  The  kind  wanderer  is 
begged  to  release  '  two  '  purgatoried  souls  from  the  tor- 
tures of  hell. 

"  This  wench  was  with  child." 

A  third,  rather  more  laconic,  runs  :  — 

MICHAEL   GERSTNER, 
"  Climbed  up,  fell  clov/n,  and  was  dead." 

The  picture  of  a  man  foiling  down  from  an  apple-Xxto. 
made  it  clear  why  the  unfortunate  Michael  had  climbed 
it. 

A  very  comical  picture  near  the  "  Kaiserclause,"  a  large 
wood-drift,  depicts  three  men  sitting,  one  behind  the 
other,  astraddle  of  one  large  block  of  wood,  which  is  in 

>  Unmarried  men  arc  called  "  youths  "  all  their  lives. 


1 76    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

the  act  of  being  drifted  down  the  turbulent  and  foaming 
waters.  Each  man  lias  a  cross  over  his  head,  and  the 
expression  of  the  faces  is  comicality  itself. 

This  epitaph  is  one  of  the  best  of  its  kind,  and  shows 
a  good  deal  of  humor  on  the  part  of  its  author  :  "  On  this 
spot  did  Johann  Memmen,  Christoph  Miiller,  and  Alois 
Hausler,  on  the  24th  June,  1838,  set  out  on  a  long  and 
perilous  journey.  They  hoped  to  find  the  gates  of  heaven 
open." 

Underneath  this  is  a  picture  of  the  three  men  in  the 
furnace,  and  below  that  again  is  written  :  — 

"  In  case  their  journey  ends  in  hell,  the  pious  wanderer 
is  requested  to  say  the  rosary  to  save  them  from  some  of 
the  tortures  which  await  them." 

Were  it  in  my  power  to  add  the  orthography  of  the 
epitaphs,  it  v\'ould  greatly  heighten  the  effect  of  these  prim- 
itive and  curious  remnants  of  a  very  ancient  custom. 

The  reckless  daring  which  is  a  prominent  feature  in  the 
character  of  a  woodcutter  is  the  natural  result  of  a  hardy 
confidence  in  his  own  powers  and  a  long  immunity  from 
accidents,  and  makes  him  look  upon  the  most  urgent  pre- 
cautions dictated  by  his  craft  as  needless.  The  felled 
tree  falling  a  moment  too  soon,  or  the  sharp  axe  glancing 
off  from  the  hard-frozen  wood,  are  only  too  frequently  the 
origins  of  votive  tablets. 

Drifting  the  wood,  too,  though  apparently  a  very  safe 
occupation,  is  the  source  of  many  accidents,  as  we  have 
seen  by  the  fate  of  the  three  travelers,  the  subject  of  the 
last  epitaph. 

A  short  sketch  of  the  opening  of  a  drift  will  give  my 
readers  an  idea  of  the  sort  of  work  which  falls  to  the  lot 
of  these  fellows. 

The  timber  which  has  been  felled  in  the  course  of  the 
autumn  and  spring  on  the  slopes  of  a  valley  is  brought 
down  to  the  waterside  in  May  and  the  commencement  of 
June.  Important  wood-valleys  have  a  wood-drift  of  their 
own,  erected  by  Government.  It  consists  of  a  huge  bar- 
rier of  the  strongest  timber  at  the  upper  end  of  the  val- 
ley, right  across  the  drift-stream.     On  the  upper  side  of 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  177 

this  structure  a  deep  reservoir  is  excavated,  in  which  large 
quantities  of  wood  accumulate,  thereby  considerably  rais- 
ing the  water-level.  As  soon  as  this  artificial  pond  is 
filled  with  timber  and  water,  the  ponderous  iron-bound 
gates  of  the  drift,  thus  far  tightly  closed,  are  sprung  open, 
and  with  a  terrific  roar,  making  the  earth  around  shake, 
the  water  and  huge  blocks  of  wood  rush  through  the  bar- 
rier on  to  their  destination,  frequendy  ten  or  fifteen  miles 
farther  down,  and  close  to  the  conflux  of  the  drift-stream 
with  a  larger  one,  when  the  wood  is  caught  up  and  piled 
in  huge  stacks.  Drifts  are  necessarily  erected  only  in 
streams  in  which  the  ordinary  water-power  would  prove 
inadequate  to  float  timber  measuring  from  three  to  eigh- 
teen feet  in  length,  and  from  two  to  five  feet  in  diameter. 

If  the  drifting  stream  takes  its  course  through  narrow 
gorges  and  defiles  of  walls  of  rock  several  hundred  feet 
in  height,  the  floating  of  timber  calls  for  great  exertion 
on  the  part  of  the  men  engaged  in  it.  In  these  places 
the  timber  is  very  liable  to  get  jammed  together.  In  a 
few  minutes  the  whole  bulk  of  the  wood,  very  often  2,000 
or  3,000  "  klafter  "  or  "  cords,"  may  choke  up  the  narrow 
passage  in  one  stationary  mass,  while  the  water  runs  to 
waste,  either  in  channels  underneath  the  mass,  or  by  over- 
flowing it.  When  one  of  these  "blocks"  occurs,  the 
men  have  to  be  lowered  by  ropes  from  the  brink  of  the 
chasm  above  ;  and  with  saws  and  long  poles,  provided 
with  ponderous  iron  hooks  at  one  extremity,  they  strive 
to  bring  the  whole  mass  into  motion  by  sawing  through 
the  timber  which  has  produced  the  block,  or  if  this  fails, 
by  working  off  block  after  block,  which  latter  often  re- 
quires the  incessant  labor  of  months. 

The  dangers  which  attend  this  occupation  are  very 
obvious.  If  the  mass  should  begin  to  move  again  before 
the  men  standing  about  in  different  positions  on  the 
blocks  are  prepared  for  it,  and  before  they  have  regained 
their  ropes,  they  are  inevitably  crushed  to  pancakes  by 
the  bumping  and  crashing  timber. 

There  are  instances  in  which  a  whole  party,  numbering 
twelve  or  fifteen  individuals,  has  perished  in  this  manner. 


178    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Where,  again,  the  stream  covers  a  large  surface,  and  is 
dotted  here  and  there  by  huge  boulders  that  have  tum- 
bled down  the  precipitous  slopes  of  the  valley,  the  drifted 
wood  is  sometimes  caught ;  or  if  the  banks  are  shallow, 
a  huge  block  will  get  stranded  or  shoved  up  high  and 
dry  by  the  impetuous  rush  of  the  blocks  in  its  rear.  In 
such  cases  the  men  have  to  stand  up  to  their  waists  in 
the  icy-cold  v/ater  the  livelong  day,  while  endeavoring  to 
push  block  after  block  back  into  the  turbulent  stream,  the 
least  inattention  or  carelessness  on  their  part  being  fol- 
lowed by  disastrous  consequences.  The  fellers  of  the 
timber,  on  the  contrary,  have,  by  the  time  the  drifting 
begins,  already  been  for  some  time  high  up  on  the  moun- 
tain slopes,  preparing  a  fresh  stock  for  next  year's  drift ; 
and  if  my  reader  will  follow  me  on  an  unsuccessful 
chamois-stalking  expedition,  which  brought  me  into  a 
woodcutter's  hovel  high  up  on  the  Tyrolese  Alps,  he  will 
make  the  acquaintance  of  as  quaint  and  primitive  a  set 
of  human  beings  as  can  well  be  met  with  this  side  of  the 
ocean. 

A  thunder-storm  in  the  High  Alps  is  a  somewhat  hack- 
neyed subject,  numerous  authors  of  Alpine  literature  hav- 
ing been  caught  by  thunder-storms  which  surpassed  every 
thing  of  the  kind  hitherto  known. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  grand  spectacles  that  I  was 
picking  my  steps  down  a  rugged  and  steep  Alpine  path, 
after  my  unsuccessful  chase.  A  stay  of  three  days  and 
two  nights  among  the  peaks  and  grand  snowfields  had 
exhausted  my  provisions,  and  I  was  obliged  to  seek  hos- 
pitable quarters  in  tlie  little  Alpine  valley  lying  some  five 
or  six  thousand  feet  below  me. 

Securing  the  lock  of  my  rifle,  and  covering  my  "  Ruck- 
sack "  with  a  waterproof  hood,  I  cared  little  for  thunder 
and  lightning,  and  the  heavy  downpour  of  rain  which 
accompanied  them. 

Soon  after  reaching  the  line  of  vegetation,  my  path  led 
me  through  a  dark  and  gloomy  forest  of  huge  patriarchal 
old  pine-trees,  coated  with  gigantic  moss  beards  yards  in 
length,  which  imparted  a  vivid  appearance  to  many  an 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  179 

oddly-shaped  tree.  After  having  walked  some  time  down 
the  steep  slope,  vaulting  now  and  again  over  the  prostrate 
form  of  one  of  these  giants  of  the  forest,  I  came  upon  a 
large  clearing.  The  huge  stems,  like  hoary  monsters  slaiii 
by  a  dwarfs  hand,  lay  scattered  about  in  reckless  confu- 
sion, while  the  fresh  surface  of  the  stumps  indicated  that 
ax  and  saw  had  been  but  very  recendy  at  work.  Proceed- 
ing down  the  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  making  mental 
calculations  of  how  many  thousand  per  cent  profit  one 
would  derive  by  the  transmission  by  fairy  hand  of  a  batch 
of  these  huge  trunks  to  any  of  the  large  timber-devouring 
cities  in  England,  I  perceived  a  few  minutes  later  the 
miserable  hovel  of  the  destructive  dwarfs,  the  wood- 
fellers. 

A  thin  wreath  of  blue  smoke  curling  up,  in  spite  of  the 
rain,  from  a  hole  cut  in  the  roof,  convinced  me  that  my 
anticipation  of  finding  the  dwelling  inhabited  was  correct. 

Well  aware  that  no  other  human  habitation  was  witliin 
a  five  or  six  hours'  walk  at  the  very  least,  I  gladly  availed 
myself  of  the  hospitable  "  Geh  eina,  Bua  "  ("  Come  in, 
boy"),  — young  men  up  to  the  thirtieth  year  are  invaria- 
bly termed  bo}-s,  —  Vv'hich  greeted  me  on  showing  my 
dripping  head  inside  the  low  doorway. 

Four  men,  all  woodcutters,  were  sitting  round  a  roar- 
ing fire  ;  and  though  it  was  hardly  half-past  five,  they  were 
busy  preparing  their  evening  meal,  the  appetizing  odor  of 
which  reminded  me  in  a  most  inviting  manner  that  I  had 
not  tasted  a  warm  dish  of  any  kind  since  leaving  home 
some  three  days  before. 

The  usual  questions,  "VvH-io  art  thou?"  and  "Whence 
dost  thou  come?"  having  been  answered  by  me  to  the 
satisfaction  of  my  hosts,  I  had  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
divested  myself  of  my  dripping  coat,  shoes,  and  stockings, 
and  placed  them  as  near  to  the  fire  as  the  arrangements 
of  the  party  permitted. 

I  may  as  well  mention  that  on  such  occasions  I  care- 
fully refrain  from  playing  the  fine  gentleman.  For  the 
questions  who  I  am  and  whence  I  come,  I  have  suitable 
answers ;    for  were  they  even  to  learn  that  I  am  not  a 


l8o    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

native,  but  a  stranger,  shyness  would  take  the  place  of 
frank  open-hearted  mirth,  and  suspicion  of  the  probable 
purpose  of  my  presence  in  so  outlandish  a  place,  divest 
a  meeting  of  this  kind  of  all  its  characteristic  features  \ 
and  to  make  myself  accurately  acquainted  with  these 
characteristics  had  formed,  to  speak  plainly,  one  of  the 
causes  of  my  attachment  to  Tyrol. 

The  primitive  interior  and  exterior  of  this  hovel  call 
for  a  few  words  of  description.  To  begin  with  the  con- 
struction of  the  building,  which,  it  must  be  remembered, 
is  the  work  of  a  few  hours  for  three  or  four  men,  we  first 
of  all  find  four  stakes  driven  into  the  ground.  They  are 
the  corners  of  the  edifice,  and,  in  order  that  the  roof  may 
receive  the  necessary  incline,  one  pair  of  stakes  are  left 
longer  than  the  other  two ;  or  they  are  of  equal  length, 
but  the  upper  two  stand  on  rising  ground.  The  tops  of 
these  four  stakes  are  connected  by  stout  poles,  and  across 
these  rows  of  laths,  or,  if  they  can  not  be  procured,  fir- 
branches,  are  laid.  On  these  again  the  roof,  consisting  of 
large  sheets  of  the  bark  of  pine-trees  that  have  been 
soaked  for  some  time  in  the  next  streamlet,  is  nailed 
with  wooden  pegs  or  weighed  down  by  heavy  stones  :  the 
sides  or  walls  are  of  the  same  material.  Woodcutter's 
huts  are  rarely  more  than  nine  to  eleven  feet  square, 
except  when  they  are  erected  for  permanency,  and  then 
they  are  log-cabins  varying  in  their  size  according  to  the 
numbers  which  are  to  live  in  them. 

The  present  one  was  not  larger  than  nine  feet  square. 
The  fireplace,  a  heap  of  stones  raised  to  about  two  feet 
from  the  ground,  occupying  the  center ;  the  outlet  for  the 
smoke,  a  square  hole  in  the  corner,  opposite  the  low  and 
narrow  doorway,  unprotected  by  a  door  of  any  kind  ;  and 
finally,  the  four  slanting  boards  in  lieu  of  beds,  —  were  the 
chief  objects  that  struck  the  eye  as  one  entered. 

Each  man  had  his  haversack  hanging  on  a  peg  over 
his  board  ;  the  latter,  covered  by  fir-branches  and  a  rough 
blanket,  must  have  proved  a  somewhat  hard,  uncomfort- 
able, and  cold  couch  for  six  or  seven  months  of  the  year. 

The    huge   iron   frying-pan,   filled   to   the   brim   with 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  l8l 

"Schmarn"  (flour,  water,  butter,  and  salt),  suspended  by 
an  ingenious  mechanism  over  the  roaring  wood  fire,  was 
beginning  to  utter  signs  of  welcome  import. 

Plates,  dishes,  tables,  and  chairs  are  unknown  luxuries 
in  one  of  these  dwellings.  The  pan,  placed  on  a  huge 
log  measuring  some  three  feet  across  the  level  surface,  was 
our  plate,  dish,  and  table  in  common ;  the  spoon,  invaria- 
bly carried  along  with  the  sharp  knife  in  a  separate 
pocket  of  the  owner,  conveyed  the  steaming  mess  from 
the  pan  to  the  mouth ;  and  a  small  barrel  holding  some 
eight  or  ten  quarts  of  water,  with  a  hollow  piece  of  wood 
an  inch  or  two  in  length  placed  near  the  bung-hole,  was 
our  glass  and  jug. 

It  requires  a  very  formidable  appetite  to  be  able  to  eat 
any  quantity  of  a  genuine  woodcutter's  "  Schmarn." 
Terribly  greasy,  it  satiates  with  marvelous  rapidity ;  and 
one  can  only  look  on  with  astonishment  at  the  incredible 
quantities  which  these  men  will  consume.  They  eat  it 
three  times  a  day ;  in  fact,  it  is  their  only  food,  save  a 
hunch  of  bread,  and  perhaps  now  and  again  a  few  slices 
of  bacon. 

A  small  bag-full  of  tea  invariably  forms  part  of  my 
chamois-stalking  kit,  and  so,  after  the  dispatch  of  our  sup- 
per, I  proposed  to  indulge  in  the  inestimable  luxury  of  a 
panful  of  tea.  Now,  to  the  mind  of  a  Tyrolese  the  word 
tea  (or  "Thee")  conveys  anything  but  an  agreeable 
impression.  Teas  are  with  them  the  simple  decoctions  of 
herbs  and  leaves  of  certain  trees  and  bushes,  used  only 
for  medicinal  purpose.  Thus  they  have  a  tea  for  coughs, 
a  tea  for  pains  in  the  chest,  another  for  bile,  rheumatism, 
and  even,  strange  to  say,  a  tea  for  sprained  ankles  or  dis- 
located joints  !  My  proposition  therefore  called  forth 
the  usual  inquiry,  "Wo  feilts?"  ("Where  i:»  the  ail- 
ing? ")  My  explaining  to  them  that  this  was  Chinese  tea, 
and  that  certain  nations  drank  it  once  or  twice  every  day 
of  their  lives,  created  a  general  laughter,  and  the  covert 
hint  that  no  wonder  the  "  Stadtler,"  or  people  from  towns, 
were  such  pale-faced  and  spindle-shanlied  individuals. 

Filling  the  pan  with  clean  water,  I  re-adjusted  it  over 


1 82     GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

the  fire,  and  looked  about  me  for  a  second  vessel  into 
which  to  pour  the  boiling  water.  My  inquiry  to  this  effect 
brought  forth  a  somewhat  odd  "  teapot."  It  was  a  tin 
wash-hand-basin,  knocked  in  and  beat  into  a  hardly  rec- 
ognizable shape.  The  traces  of  lard  on  its  sides  indicated 
very  plainly  to  what  use  it  had  been  put,  namely,  for  the 
conveyance  of  their  store  of  this  indispensable  com- 
modity. 

^Vell  cleaned  with  hot  water,  it  was  a  capital  substitute 
for  a  teapot,  and  often  I  have  not  even  had  one  so  ser- 
viceable. 

After  placing  a  handful  of  tea  in  a  muslin  bag  expressly 
reserved  for  this  purpose,  and  putting  the  latter  into  the 
''teapot,"  I  poured  the  boiling  water  over  it;  a  few  min- 
utes later,  a  steaming  bowl  of  tea,  free  from  the  leaves, 
which  remained  in  the  bag,  was  standing  on  the  log. 

Sweetening  it  v/ith  some  sugar  from  my  store,  I  invited 
my  companions,  who  had  been  watching  my  proceedings 
with  a  half-comical,  half-serious  expression  of  face,  to 
partake  of  the  "Chinese  tea." 

A  few  drops  satisfied  them ;  and  they  put  down  their 
spoons  with  the  hint  that  they  were  not  ill. 

Well  knowing  their  tastes,  I  first  of  all  drank  as  much 
as  I  wanted,  and  then  poured  an  ample  allowance  of 
"  Schnapps  "  into  the  tea.  This  produced  a  great  change 
for  the  better,  as  my  hosts  informed  me,  and  they  finished 
the  basin  with  great  relish.  Far  more,  however,  than  the 
tea,  did  they  admire  my  tobacco  ;  and  soon  the  hut  was 
filled  with  dense  clouds  of  my  bird's-eye  (smuggled  into 
Austria  at  the  cost  of  great  trouble  and  stratagem),  of 
which,  being  an  inveterate  smoker,  I  always  carry  a  goodly 
store  with  me  on  expeditions  of  like  kind. 

Tea  and  tobacco  had  loosened  our  tongues  as  only 
those  two  comforts  of  life  can  do.  Merry  songs,  gay 
stories  of  sporting  exploits  or  serious  adventures,  told  in 
a  quaint,  pleasing  fashion,  that  attracts  the  listener  in  an 
inexphcable  manner,  went  round,  making  very  frequently 
the  frail  structure  over  our  heads  resound  with  our  merry 
peals  of  laughter. 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  1 83 

The  cold  night  air  —  we  were  at  an  altitude  of  consid- 
erably over  6,000  feet  —  and  the  splashing  of  rain  that 
found  an  easy  ingress  through  the  unprotected  doorway, 
the  smoke-hole,  and  various  clefts  and  holes  in  the  sides 
and  roof  of  the  hut,  made  me  glad  of  my  coat ;  while 
these  mar\-elously  hardy  fellows,  in  their  shirt-sleeves, 
open  shirt-fronts,  and  short  leathers  displaying  limbs  of 
truly  gigantic  power,  and  knees  as  scarred  and  scratched 
and  mahogany-hued  as  one  can  possibly  imagine,  seenicd 
as  comfortable  and  warm  in  their  scanty  attire  as  if  the 
midday  sun  of  a  summer's  day  were  shining  upon  us. 

Two  of  the  four  woodcutters  turned  out  to  be  noted 
poachers  ;  and  after  I  had  gained  their  confidence  by 
means  of  several  little  knacks  with  which  long  practice 
has  made  me  acquainted,  they  came  out  with  some  of 
their  adventures  while  following  that  dangerous  craft. 
They  produced  their  rifles,  —  hidden  among  the  dry 
branches  of  the  roof,  —  and  showed  me  their  simple  but 
effective  mechanism.  The  stock,  namely,  could  be  un- 
screwed from  the  barrel,  and  thus  the  whole  rifle  could 
be  carried  underneath  the  coat  or  in  the  "Rucksack," 
without  awakening  suspicion  in  the  mind  of  any  keeper 
who  happened  to  meet  them.  The  older  of  the  two,  a 
man  of  about  thirty-two,  had  had  several  very  close  en- 
counters with  the  keepers  of  the  neighboring  Bavarian 
preserves.  A  terrible  cut,  disfiguring  his  whole  face,  was 
one  of  the  wounds,  while  the  brawny  back  he  exposed  to 
my  view  to  corroborate  his  tale  bore  in  numerous  holes 
the  marks  of  a  gunshot  wound. 

On  my  asking  him  when  and  how  it  happened,  he  n;- 
plied,  with  a  somewhat  grim  smile,  that  he  was  willing  to 
tell  me  the  story  ;  "  For,"  he  added,  "  that  shot,"  raea'iing 

the  one  in  his  back,  "  v/as  the  last  one  that (keeper) 

fired.  Why  did  he  miss  me  with  his  rifle?  As  if  I  cared 
much  for  these  peas  at  a  distance  of  more  than  forty 
yards  !  "  The  fact  that  many  keepers  carry  double-bar- 
reled guns,  one  barrel  rifled  for  ball,  the  second  for  shot, 
explains  these  words.  The  keeper  had  missed  the  poacher- 
with  his  first  barrel,  and,  instead  of  keeping  his  shot  till 


1 84    GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

closer  quarters,  had  fired  it  when  the  poacher  was  yet 
some  forty  yards  distant.  The  latter  had  turned  instinc- 
tively when  he  saw  the  keeper  intending  to  fire,  and  thus 
received  the  small-sized  shot  in  his  back,  doing  but  little 
injury,  and  without  preventing  him  firom  taking  vengeance 
in  too  summary  a  manner  on  the  person  of  tlie  foe,  who, 
I  must  add,  had  shot  at  him  on  a  previous  occasion. 

The  second  poacher,  my  neighbor  to  the  right,  I  knew 
by  reputation. 

Of  gigantic  build,  rare  power  and  agility,  he  one  time 
succeeded  in  beating  off  three  keepers.  They  had  just 
left  an  Alp-hut  in  order  to  fetch  some  wood  to  make  a 
fire,  and  had  left  their  rifles  in  the  inside  of  the  chalet, 
when  all  of  a  sudden  "  Dare-devil  Hans  "  (the  name  by 
which  my  friend  went)  appeared  on  the  scene.  Perceiv- 
ing that  they  were  armed  only  with  their  alpenstocks 
and  a  hatchet,  he  placed  himself  with  his  back  to  the 
outside  of  the  closed  door  of  the  hut,  and  defended  him- 
self so  bravely  with  his  alpenstock  against  his  would-be 
captors,  that  he  not  only  injured  two  very  severely,  but 
actually  put  them  to  the  rout,  bagging  their  three  rifles 
and  a  chamois  as  his  legitimate  spoils.  Two  years  after 
his  relating  me  this  tale,  the  poor  fellow  had  to  pay  with 
his  life  for  his  daring  raids  in  strange  preserves.  Like 
numbers  of  his  brethren,  he  fell  a  victim  to  the  hatred  of 
his  relentless  foes,  the  keepers.  Shot  right  through  the 
body,  he  had  yet  sufficient  strength  to  outstrip  his  pur- 
suers ;  and,  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  he  made  his  way  to 
the  distant  Alp-hut  tenanted  by  his  girl,  only  to  expire  in 
her  arms  the  following  day. 

To  show  how  close  temptation  lay  to  my  hosts,  I  may 
mention  that  they  had  simply  to  cross  a  sort  of  gorge, 
ascend  the  opposite  slope,  and  they  were  within  the 
boundaries  of  a  royal  Bavarian  preserve  splendidly 
stocked  with  game. 

Saturday  afternoon  and  Sunday  are  the  woodcutters' 
days  of  recreation.  The  men  either  follow  their  perilous 
sport,  or  they  visit  their  sweethearts  in  their  solitary  cha- 
lets, or  they  descend  from  their  lofty  perch  and  make  their 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  185 

way  to  the  verdant  valley,  whence,  staggering  under  tlie 
potent  influence  of  strong  liquor,  with  bags  filled  with 
flour,  bread,  butter,  and  lard, — their  provisions  for  the 
next  fortnight  or  three  weeks,  —  they  re-ascend  late  on 
Sunday  night.  Their  wages,  I  may  add,  vary  between 
90  kreutzers  and  i  florin  40  kreutzers  {\s.  lod.  to  2s. 
lOi/.).  The  proceeds  of  poached  game  are  generally 
ridiculously  low,  for  the  innkeeper  who  buys  it  knows 
very  well  how  they  have  come  by  it,  and  the  vendor  has 
to  accept  quite  nominal  prices.  Thus  a  roebuck  fetches 
2  to  3  florins  (4^.  to  6s.),  and  a  chamois  even  less. 

We  retired  to  our  couches  at  a  late  hour ;  quite  soon 
enough,  however,  for  me  to  pass  an  uncomfortable  night, 
wedged  in  between  two  of  my  strapping  hosts.  At  half- 
past  four  we  were  up  cooking  our  breakfast ;  and  while 
they  were  buckling  on  their  crampons  (these  men  hardly 
ever  work  without  them  on  their  feet)  I  examined  my 
rifle,  intending  to  enjoy  a  stalk  on  my  way  home. 

The  rain  was  still  coming  down  in  toiTents  ;  and  the 
riviflet,  quite  an  insignificant  watercourse  the  night  be- 
fore, was  now  a  swollen  and  roaring  ton-ent. 

We  were  just  about  to  set  out  on  our  different  voca- 
tions when  in  rushed  a  man  dripping  with  water.  It 
seems  that  about  two  hours  off  another  gang  of  wood- 
cutters were  at  work.  Their  hut,  built  on  the  brink  of  a 
rivulet,  had  been  torn  away  in  the  night,  while  they  were 
sleeping,  by  the  rushing  and  roaring  masses  of  water  of 
the  rivulet,  now  a  mighty  torrent.  Two  of  them  had  been 
injured,  —  one  rather  severely,  the  man  told  us,  the  other 
but  slightly.  He  had  come  to  ask  us  to  aid  him  and 
his  comrade  to  transport  the  injured  men  to  the  nearest 
houses,  where  medical  aid  could  be  procured. 

Of  course  we  were  all  ready  to  accompany  him,  and 
putting  our  best  foot  foremost,  we  reached  the  scene  of 
the  disaster  within  an  hour  and  a  half  from  the  time  we 
started.  Not  a  stick  or  vestige  of  the  hut  remained  to 
indicate  the  spot  where  it  had  stood. 

The  poor  fellows  were  in  a  sad  plight :  they  had  lost 
their  provisions,  bags,  axes,  and  crampons ;  and  though 


1 86    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

the  two  latter  articles  were  subsequently  recovered  some 
considerable  way  clown  the  bed  of  the  torrent,  yet  their 
loss  was  for  them  a  very  severe  one. 

By  means  of  a  litter  made  of  two  long  poles,  some 
pine-branches,  and  ray  blanket,  we  transported  the  se- 
verely-injured man  to  the  next  house,  five  hours  off; 
while  his  companion,  who  had  been  stunned,  had  recov- 
ered himself  sufficiently  not  to  require  our  help.  He  and 
one  of  his  confreres  remained  at  the  scene  of  the  disas- 
ter in  order  to  raise  another  hut  in  a  more  secure  spot. 
About  noon  we  reached  our  destination,  the  first  house  of 
a  straggling  little  hamlet. 

The  doctor,  who  lived  in  a  large  village  some  fifteen 
miles  off,  was  immediately  sent  for,  and  about  ten  o'clock 
at  night  he  arrived,  accompanied  by  our  faithful  messenger. 

The  injuries  which  the  man  had  received  were  severe, 
but  his  strong  constitution  pulled  him  through ;  and 
v/hen,  some  four  or  five  months  later,  I  had  occasion  to 
pass  through  this  hamlet  again,  I  was  told  that  he  had 
joined  his  mates  some  weeks  before. 

It  must  seem  strange  to  readers  surrounded  by  luxuries 
and  comforts  of  every  kind,  to  hear  that  a  patient  had  to 
wait  ten  hours  for  medical  assistance.  This,  however,  is 
by  no  means  a  particularly  long  delay  in  the  arrival  of 
medical  aid.  I  have  known  forty-eight  hours  to  elapse 
after  an  accident  before  the  doctor  or  surgeon  came.  In 
winter  it  is  often  quite  impossible  to  cross  the  mountains 
between  straggling  hamlets  and  the  next  village  which 
boasts  of  a  doctor.  That  the  duties  of  a  medical  man 
in  the  rural  districts  of  Tyrol  are  excessively  arduous,  — 
and  they  are  shamefully  underpaid  by  Government,  —  we 
can  well  fancy. 

In  many  of  the  villages  the  doctor  has  to  leave  his 
bed,  winter  and  summer,  at  half-past  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning  to  attend  to  the  peasants  who  need  his  advice. 
They  come  from  the  surrounding  heights  and  mountain 
slopes,  their  homes,  to  attend  the  four-o'clock  early  mass  ; 
and  prior  to  their  entering  the  church  they  look  in  upon 
the  doctor,  state  their  ailings,  and  then  at  half-past  four. 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  1S7 

when  mass  is  over,  they  fetch  the  medicine  which  the 
doctor  lias  made  up  in  the  mean  while. 

To  return  to  the  wood-fellers  :  I  have  yet  to  relate  a 
little  adventure  which  I  once  experienced  along  with 
three  of  these  rough,  original  beings. 

We  had  been  shooting  in  the  preserves  of  my  compan- 
ion's native  village,  skirting  the  Bavarian  frontier  for  many 
miles.  I  had  been  unsuccessful  on  both  days,  when  at 
last,  towards  the  evening  of  the  second  one,  I  got  a  shot 
at  a  splendid  stag  carrying  fourteen  points.  He  had 
come  up  a  short  ravine,  and  was  just  breasting  the  top 
when  my  ball  entered  his  chest,  striking  it,  however,  in 
an  oblique  direction.  My  ball,  a  large  one,  failed  to  pene- 
trate the  animal,  but  nevertheless  brought  him  down  upon 
his  knees.  The  Bavarian  frontier  was  not  more  than  a 
hundred  yards  off,  and  should  the  stag  succeed  in  regain- 
ing the  use  of  his  limbs  and  crossing  the  frontier  line,  he 
was  lost  to  us,  further  pursuit  involving  great  danger  on 
account  of  the  ever-watchful  Bavarian  keepers.  Hastily 
reloading  my  rifle,  I  made  for  the  spot  where  my  victim 
was  kneeling.  To  reach  him  I  had  to  scramble  down 
some  very  precipitous  cliffs,  at  the  bottom  of  which  a 
small  stream  ran.  Intending  to  ford  this  stream  at  a 
certain  point,  I  rushed  down  the  cliffs.  On  reaching  the 
bottom  I  saw  that  I  had  mistaken  the  site  of  the  ford ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  stop  my  headlong  course,  and,  the 
streamlet  being  too  broad  to  be  crossed  by  a  flying  leap, 
I  and  my  rifle  were  floundering  a  second  later  in  a  deep 
hole  worn  in  the  solid  rock  by  the  action  of  the  water. 

On  regaining  the  shore,  a  matter  of  some  difficulty, 
owing  to  the  smooth,  polished  rock  that  surrounded  me 
on  every  side,  I  put  aside  my  now  useless  rifle,  and, 
armed  with  my  knife,  I  hastened  up  the  steep  cliff  flank- 
ing the  gorge  to  the  spot  Avhere  I  expected  to  find  the 
stag.  He  was  gone,  and  the  gory  track  left  no  doubt  in 
what  direction,  —  of  course  down  the  ravine,  right  into 
the  Bavarian  preserves.  My  mortification  can  be  fancied  : 
a  "fourtcener  "  —  a  rare  piece  of  good  luck  —  to  be  lost 
at  the  very  moment  of  success.     The  wounded  hart  could 


1 88    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

not  have  gone  far,  very  probably  not  farther  than  a  few 
hundred  yards,  and  there,  breaking  down,  would  die  a 
lingering  death  within  a  few  paces  of  the  frontier. 

My  three  companions,  attracted  by  my  shot,  soon  made 
their  appearance.  To  pursue  the  wounded  stag  would 
be  certainly  a  very  risky  undertaking,  and  yet  we  could 
not  leave  the  noble  animal  to  its  fate.  My  companions, 
though  woodcutters,  were  in  this  instance  no  poachers, 
and  entertained  a  wholesome  dread  of  the  sharp  practices 
of  the  Bavarian  keepers,  who  often  follow  their  call  to 
surrender  by  the  sharp  bang  of  their  dreaded  rifles.  We 
decided  to  refrain  from  taking  any  decisive  step  that 
evening,  but  rather  to  await  the  morrow.  By  that  time, 
we  hoped,  any  keeper  who  might  have  been  attracted  to 
the  spot  by  my  shot  v/ould  have  left,  leaving  us  free  scope 
to  pursue  the  wounded  hart.  Dawn  of  day  found  us 
tracing  the  track  of  the  stag  across  the  frontier  down  the 
slopes  of  the  ridge,  along  the  height  of  which  ran  the 
boundary  line.  We  had  not  proceeded  for  more  than  a 
mile  at  tlic  utmost  when  we  came  upon  the  stag,  stretched 
out  below  the  overhanging  boughs  of  a  huge  pine ;  he 
was  yet  living,  though  evidently  in  a  dying  state.  The 
"  Knickfang  "  with  my  hunting-knife,  i.e.,  the  severing  the 
spinal  cord  at  the  point  where  neck  and  back  join,  soon 
put  the  poor  animal  out  of  its  pain.  To  enable  the 
reader  to  understand  the  details  of  the  following  incident, 
I  must  mention  that  the  tree  under  which  the  wounded 
stag  had  taken  refuge  stood  in  the  center  of  a  clearing, 
flanked  on  two  sides  by  high  bluffs,  while  steep  precipices 
hedged  it  in  on  the  two  other  sides.  We  were  just  pre- 
paring to  brittle  the  noble  animal,  intending  to  quarter 
it  afterwards,  in  order  to  carry  it  off  in  this  way,  when, 
without  the  slightest  notice  on  the  part  of  our  assailants, 
two  shots  were  fired  at  us.  The  distance  was,  however, 
fortunately  so  great  —  the  keepers  were  ambuscaded 
behind  some  bushes  on  the  top  of  the  bluffs  overlooking 
the  level  clearing  —  that  both  struck  the  ground  some 
yards  from  our  position.  We  did  not  give  our  foes  time 
for  a  repetition  of  the  volley,  for,  with  sundry  angry  oaths, 


THE    WOODCUTTER.  189 

my  three  companions  collected  their  rifles  and  the  sacks 
they  had  laid  aside,  and,  following  in  my  wake,  we  gained 
the  sheltering  wood,  and  some  minutes  later  our  own  pre- 
serves in  saiety.  Of  course  the  stag  was  lost  to  us,  the 
keepers  not  only  obliging  us  to  retreat,  but  being  rewarded 
for  their  watching  by  a  noble  "  fourteener." 


190    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER  XL 

ALPINE   CHARACTERS  :    THE   SMUGGLER. 

i^IVE  and  seventy  years  ago  smuggling  was  one  of  the 
chief  resources  for  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  remote 
valleys  and  glens  in  Tyrol,  adjoining  either  Bavarian  or 
Italian  boundaries. 

The  Tyrolese  smugglers  were  renowned  in  those  days, 
not  only  for  the  bold  and  cunning  manner  in  which  they 
carried  on  these  dangerous  trades,  often  on  an  amazingly 
large  scale,  but  also  for  the  daring  courage  with  which 
they  resisted  the  armed  excisemen.  Nowadays  the 
decrease  of  duty  on  the  two  or  three  articles  that  were 
smuggled,  sucli  as  tobacco  and  silk  into  Tyrol,  and  gun- 
powder, schnapps  (spirits),  and  salt,  out  of  it,  renders  it 
far  less  remunerative  than  formerly. 

Nothing  proves  the  decrease  of  smuggling  more  strik- 
ingly than  the  fact  that,  while  formerly  forty  and  fifty 
smugglers  and  custou'is  officials  were  annually  killed  or 
severely  wounded  in  nocturnal  encounters  in  the  by-ways 
of  the  Alps,  nowadays  scarcely  four  or  five  men  fall  vic- 
tims to  the  rifle  of  the  officer  or  of  the  smuggler. 

Pitched  battles  between  small  bodies  of  the  detested 
"  Grenzwachter,"  or  "  Finanzer  "  —  customs  officers  — 
and  well-armed  smugglers  were  of  yore  by  no  means 
rare  occurrences ;  but  now,  owing,  as  I  have  said,  to  the 
decrease  of  duty,  they  happen  but  very  rarely,  and  no 
doubt  the  next  ten  years  will  witness  the  total  extinction 
of  an  interesting  race,  that  of  the  "  Schwarzer  "  or  "  free- 
trader." 

In  speaking,  therefore,  of  Tyrolese  smugglers  of  the 


THE  SMUGGLER.  191 

old  and  genuine  tj-pe,  hardy  and  dauntless  mountaineers, 
^^^ly  and  resolute  foes  of  the  Government  officers,  we  are 
speaking  of  beings  of  the  past ;  and  just  on  that  account 
it  may,  before  their  existence  becomes  a  matter  of  tradi- 
tion, or  at  the  best  of  hearsay,  prove  of  some  interest, 
perhaps,  to  touch  upon  the  manifold  dangers  that  beset 
the  path  of  these  daring  fellows. 

In  the  course  of  my  wanderings  in  TjtoI,  and  among 
the  queer  people  met  in  odd,  out-of-the-way  nooks  and 
corners,  I  have  come  across  not  a  few  smugglers  and 
ex-smugglers.  A  little  practice  and  close  watching  of  a 
man's  behavior  soon  enables  one  to  say,  after  a  quarter  or 
half  an  hour's  conversation,  if  he  is  or  v.-as  a  member  of 
the  fraternity  in  question.  In  many  instances  I  have 
succeeded  in  drawing  out  my  victim  by  the  dark  hint 
that  I  was  aware  of  his  present  or  former  avocation ;  and 
my  assertion,  based,  I  need  hardly  say,  upon  my  impres- 
sion only,  has  been  generally  rewarded  by  the  mention 
of  one  or  two  interesting  adventures,  told  with  that  trust- 
ing sincerity  and  quaint  humor,  entirely  free  from  bravado 
or  exaggeration,  which,  when  once  you  have  known  how 
to  gain  their  confidence,  distinguish  friendly  intercourse 
with  Tyrolese  in  remote  districts. 

The  most  interesting  man  of  this  stamp  I  have  ever 
met  with  was,  beyond  doubt,  Johann  K ,  whose  ac- 
quaintance I  happened  to  make  in  an  odd  manner. 

Eight  or  nine  years  ago,  in  fact,  one  of  the  first  sum- 
mers I  spent  in  my  second  home,  TjtoI,  I  was  making  a 
pedestrian  tour  among  the  medium-sized  mountain  ridges 
that  skirt  the  Achenthal,  close  to  the  Bavarian  frontier. 
One  day,  while  I  was  yet  high  up  on  the  peaks,  night 
overtook  me  ;  and  not  being  acc^uainted  with  the  ground 
I  intended  to  pass,  and  no  Alp-hut  being  near,  I  had  to 
make  the  best  of  a  small  log-hut  erected  by  the  ov/ner  of 
the  elevated  pasturage  as  a  storehouse  for  the  winter's 
fodder. 

On  entering  by  the  square  hole  about  three  feet  by  two 
feet,  cut  in  the  solid  timber,  I  found  the  lower  partition  of 
the  hut,  measuring  perhaps  thirteen  or  fourteen  feet  square, 


192     GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

empty.  A  ladder  leading  up  to  a  square  opening  in  the 
boards  that  formed  the  ceiling  invited  me  to  a  closer 
inspection  of  the  top  story,  in  hopes  of  finding  a  couple 
of  armfuls  of  hay  for  a  bed.  The  roof,  shelving  down  on 
both  sides,  was  in  the  center  only  three  feet  from  the  floor, 
so  that,  an  erect  position  being  quite  out  of  the  question, 
I  had  to  crawl  about  in  search  of  the  hay.  In  one  of  the 
corners  I  at  last  came  upon  some  spread  out  and  flattened 
down  by  its  frequently  having  been  lain  on. 

Finishing  the  remains  of  a  very  frugal  dinner,  I  was 
soon  in  possession  of  this  soft  corner,  and  shortly  after- 
wards fell  asleep  with  my  head  resting  on  my  Rucksack. 

Two  or  three  hours  might  have  passed,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  I  was  awaked  by  a  heavy  weight  bumping  against 
my  side.  Lying  quite  still,  I  soon  became  aware  that  it 
was  a  man  who  had  thus  disturbed  me.  Five  minutes 
later  loud  snoring  proved  that  he  was  fast  asleep. 

Now  only  did  I  rise  upon  my  knees,  and,  creeping  for- 
ward, take  a  peep  down  the  hole,  to  which  I  had  been 
attracted  by  the  light  of  a  fire  and  the  loud  voices  of 
several  men. 

The  sight  that  struck  my  eyes  was  odd  and  fantastic, 
forcibly  reminding  me  of  the  thrilling  scenes  in  tales  of 
robbers  and  brigands,  with  which  a  boy's  youthful  mind 
is  inthralled.  A  bright  fire  burning  in  the  center  of  the 
hut  on  the  bare  floor  showed  me  five  stalwart  men,  with 
soot-blackened  faces,  lying  in  various  poses  round  the 
burning  logs,  with  their  rifles  at  their  side,  and  six  huge 
packages  piled  up  against  the  hole  which  served  as  door- 
way. No  doubt  was  left  in  my  mind  that  the  occupants 
of  the  hut,  whose  mysterious  arrival  I  had  not  heard, 
were  smugglers,  and  the  hut  their  rendezvous.  The  man- 
ner in  which  this  trade  was  formerly  carried  on  required 
that  there  should  be  a  place  of  meeting  in  some  remote 
and  inaccessible  part  of  the  mountains  close  to  the  fron- 
tier. Here  the  smugglers  would  meet,  the  Bavarians 
bringing  tobacco  and  silk  stuffs ;  the  Tyrolese,  schnapps, 
salt,  or  gunpowder.  After  settling  their  accounts,  each 
man  paying  for  what  he  received,  they  again  parted,  the 


THE  SMUGGLER.  193 

Bavarians  returning  with  the  salt  or  powder,  the  Tyrolesf" 
with  tobacco  and  silk,  on  their  backs.  These  meetings 
occurred  at  certain  intervals,  were  conducted  with  the 
greatest  caution  and  secrecy,  and  ahvays  took  place  at 
night,  in  order  that  both  parties  might  reach  their  starting- 
point  before  daybreak. 

My  ])osition,  of  course,  was  not  the  most  agreeable. 
Had  I  been  discovered  by  them,  and  suspected  of  espion- 
age, my  lot  might  perhaps  have  been  a  somewhat  tragical 
finish  to  a  pedestrian  tour. 

Retreating  to  my  corner  when  my  curiosity  was  satis- 
fied, I  took  up  my  Rucksack,  and  hid  it  and  myself 
in  the  opposite  corner  of  the  hut. 

Lying  down  ventre  a  terre,  and  squeezing  myself  into 
the  angle  produced  by  the  shelving  roof  and  floor,  I  was 
not  only  pretty  safe  from  discovery  as  long  as  darkness 
reigned  around  me,  but  was  also  enabled,  through  a  chink 
in  the  floor,  which  I  cautiously  widened  by  means  of  my 
knife,  to  watch  the  company  lounging  round  the  fire  a 
few  feet  below  me.  For  more  than  two  hours  did  I  watch 
the  group.  Merry  stories,  snatches  of  lively  songs,  and 
tid-bits  of  the  last  village-ball  scandal,  went  the  rounds 
when  once  business  and  shop  had  been  talked  over,  and 
the  money  for  the  tobacco  and  silks  brought  hither  by  the 
Bavarians  paid  by  the  Tyrolese  ;  the  salt  and  schnapps 
which  the  latter  had  brought  being  naturally  of  much  less 
value,  the  balance  owed  by  them  was  considerable,  in  one 
instance  amounting  to  more  than  eighty  florins  (^8),  the 
man  in  question  carrying  the  enormous  weight  of  120 
German  pounds,  or  about  150  pounds  English. 

It  must  have  been  some  time  between  twelve  and  one 
o'clock  when  they  rose,  and  began  their  preparations  for 
starting.  One  of  them,  running  up  the  ladder,  poked  his 
head  through  the  hole  and  called  his  sleeping  companion. 

A  couple  of  grunts  and  an  audible  bump  of  the  head 
against  the  rafters  of  the  roof  were  the  signal  that  my  bed- 
fellow was  leaving  his  somewhat  confined  resting-place. 

On  emerging  from  the  darkness,  wlien  he  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  ladder,  I  was  astonished  to  perceive  that  he 


194    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

had  not  blackened  his  face,  an  omission  which  he,  how- 
ever, made  good  by  pulling  out  a  black  mask  and  fasten- 
ing it  by  strings  before  his  face.  In  the  few  minutes  that 
elapsed  prior  to  his  doing  so,  I  had  ample  time  for  a  close 
scrutiny.  A  man  of  about  fifty-four,  of  large  proportions 
and  evidently  great  muscular  strength,  he  seemed  to  exer- 
cise a  sort  of  command  not  only  over  his  two  companions, 
but  also  over  the  three  Bavarian  smugglers.  Taking  up 
his  huge  package  on  his  back,  and  his  rifle  at  half-cock 
under  his  arm,  he  made  his  exit  through  the  low  and 
narrow  hole  that  served  as  a  door.  One  of  his  compan- 
ions had  gone  before  him  to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear ; 
and  on  his  reporting  that  every  thing  was  safe,  the  fire 
was  raked  out,  the  bundles  taken  up,  and  a  few  seconds 
later  the  hut  was  empty. 

Just   five    years    after  this   adventure,   I  was    one  day 

sitting  in  the  bar-room  of  the  village  of  A ,  drinking  a 

glass  of  beer  after  a  somewhat  hot  and  dusty  tramp  of 
many  hours  on  the  scorched  high-road  leading  from  1  e- 
gernsee  to  the  Achensee,  when  a  man  entered  the  room, 
and  sat  down  close  to  me.  I  knew  his  face ;  but  when 
and  where  I  had  seen  him  I  could  not  say.  I  began  a 
conversation  with  him,  asking  him  point-blank  if  he  did  not 
remember  me.  A  sharp  glance  from  beneath  his  shaggy 
eyebrows,  and  a  curt  "  No,"  was  his  answer.  After  a  few 
more  words  my  taciturn  vis-a-vis  rose,  paid  for  his  beer, 
and  with  a  short  "  B'hiit  di,"  for  a  good-by,  left  the  room 
and  the  house.  Asking  the  "  Kellnerin "  if  she  knew 
who  the  man  was,  she  told  me  in  a  mysterious  sort  of 
way  that  he  was  now  a  well-to-do  peasant,  having  once 
been  but  a  poor  penniless  lad  ;  but  how  he  had  amassed 
his  wealth  —  a  man  with  eight  or  nine  hundred  pounds' 
fortune  is  considered  rich  —  nobody  knew;  nor  could 
they  say  why  pretty  Nannie,  the  only  daughter  of  a  well- 
to-do  peasant,  could  have  married  taciturn  and  even 
morose  Johann  twice  as  old  as  herself.  On  pressing  her 
a  little  further,  she  hinted  that  people  said  he  had  been 
years  ago  a  daring  smuggler,  and  that  Nannie's  father  was 
supposed  to  have  been  one  of  his  comrades  in  this  dan- 


THE  SMUGGLER.  195 

gerous  trade.  She  had  hardly  pronounced  the  word 
"  Schwarzer  "  —  smuggler  —  when  the  whole  scene  of 
that  night  in  the  hovel  Hashed  across  my  mind.  My  curt 
vis-a-vis  was  none  other  than  my  bed-fellow  in  the  hay- 
loft five  years  before.  A  couple  of  months  after  this 
second  meeting  I  succeeded,  not  without  some  difficulty, 

in  making  the  acquaintance  of  Johann  K ,  the  rich 

peasant  and  ex-smuggler. 

One  evening,  on  returning  from  deer-stalking  in  the 
forests  close  to  Johann's  house,  which  latter  I  had  made 
my  night-quarters,  on  purpose  to  have  a  quiet  chat,  I  was 
sitting  alone  \vith  him,  in  front  of  his  house,  under  the 
broad  awning  of  the  balcony  nmning  the  whole  length 
of  the  first  floor,  when  I  led  the  conversation  to  the  ridge 
of  mountains  —  about  six  hours  off —  the  site  of  my  first 
rencontre.  Knowing  it  would  be  useless  to  endeavor  to 
gain  the  confidence  of  my  reticent  host  by  any  other 
means,  I  shortly  aftenvards  told  him  that  I  knew  what 
his  former  occupation  had  been,  and  related  to  him  hovv^ 
the  whole  thing  came  to  pass.  Jumping  up,  he  placed 
himself  in  front  of  me,  and  offered  me  his  brawny  palm. 
My  bold  tactics  had  gained  the  man's  trust ;  and  the  reti- 
cent smuggler,  evidently  convinced  of  my  sincerity  by 
my  ha\-ing  kept  his  secret,  was  now  a  gra\e  but  frank 
man,  of  that  bold  and  firm  character  which,  in  Tyrol,  is 
frequently  hidden  under  a  mask  of  suspicious  moroseness 
repelling  the  approach  of  strangers. 

That  same  night,  sitting  in  the  roomy  parlor,  uninter- 
rupted by  wife  or  child,  he  related  to  me  his  whole  life's 
adventures  and  exploits. 

"My  grandfather,"  he  began,  "and    my  father  were 

both  engaged  in  the  smuggling  trade  between  M , 

my  native  village  in  Bavaria,  and  Tyrol.  The  former, 
owner  of  an  inn,  chiefiy  confined  himself  to  concealing 
the  goods  smuggled  in  by  others,  and  selling  them  secretly 
to  peasants,  grocers,  and  innkeepers.  One  night  a  descent 
was  made  on  his  house  by  the  custom-officers,  and  before 
the  sacks  of  powder  and  kegs  of  spirits  that  had  just 


196    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PR  I  MI  Til  ^E   PROP  LP:. 

been  brought  could  be  concealed  in  their  usual  hiding- 
place,  the  armed  officials  had  effected  an  entrance,  and 
my  grandfather  and  two  of  his  mates  were  taken  prison- 
ers. Condemned  to  a  long  term  of  imprisonment,  my 
grandfather  died  before  its  expiration.  My  father,  a  lad 
of  twenty  at  the  time,  leaving  the  management  of  the 
inn  to  iiis  mother,  left  for  Tyrol,  where  he  found  employ- 
ment as  a  cattle-driver.  Detesting  his  country,  he  en- 
listed as  a  common  soldier  in  the  Tyrolese  ranks  on  the 
outbreak  of  the  French  war  in  the  last  year  of  the  last 
century.  He  fought  at  several  battles,  and  in  one  —  that 
of  Berg  Isel  (1809),  near  Innsbruck  —  where  less  than 
18,000  Tyrolese  peasants  routed  more  than  26,000  Bava- 
rian and  French  troops,  he  distinguished  himself  in  so 
marked  a  manner  that  Hofer,  the  Tyrolese  general,  made 
him  a  lieutenant  on  the  battlefield.  At  one  of  the  last 
engagements  of  that  memorable  war,  he  was  severely 
wounded,  and  while  he  lay  at  the  point  of  death  in  a 
peasant's  house,  the  news  of  his  mother's  death  reached 
him. 

"  He  recovered,  and  subsequently  married  the  peasant's 
daughter  who  had  nursed  him  through  his  illness. 

"  Fearing  to  return  to  Bavaria,  lest  he  should  be  prose- 
cuted for  espousing  the  Tyrolese  cause  in  the  late  war,  he 
sold  the  heavily-mortgaged  inn,  and  dividing  the  proceeds 
with  his  brother,  invested  his  share,  amounting  to  a  few 
hundred  florins,  in  catde.  He  made  one  journey  to  Cen- 
tral Russia  with  his  breeding  cows,  but  on  his  way  back 
was  robbed  of  every  penny,  and  he  gave  up  this  business. 
As  I  had  been  born  in  his  absence,  he  decided,  on  the 
earnest  wish  of  ray  mother,  to  turn  to  farming.  Renting 
a  small  peasant's  cottage  and  three  or  four  acres  of  land, 
he  recommenced  life.  His  hopes  of  succeeding  in  his 
farming,  however,  were  destined  to  be  disappointed,  for 
hardly  had  he  been  on  his  farm  a  year  when  the  murrain 
killed  his  two  cows,  and  he  was  at  starvation's  door. 

"  In  this  moment  of  need  his  brother,  who,  it  seems, 
had  kept  up  a  connection  with  the  smugglers  with  whom 
my  grandfather  had  been  associated,  succeeded  in  enti- 


THE  SMUGGLER.  197 

cing  my  father  to  join  him  and  three  or  four  other  daring 
fellows,  to  establish  a  regular  smuggling  trade  between 
Kufstein  and  a  small  townlet  in  Bavaria. 

"  The  Alpine  passes  traversed  by  these  intrepid  free- 
traders were  high  and  steep,  rendering  each  venture  or 
expedition  a  fatiguing  march  of  some  ten  or  twelve  hours. 
All  went  well  for  a  year  or  so,  till  one  unlucky  night  my 
father  and  three  others  were  successfully  waylaid  by  a 
party  of  six  customs  ofificials.  The  '  Halt,  or  we  slioot ! ' 
ringing  out  in  the  dark  night  at  a  few  paces'  distance, 
brought  my  father's  riiie  to  his  shoulder  —  he  usually 
walked  with  it  under  his  arm  at  half-cock  —  and  before 
the  aggressors  had  the  opportunity  to  act  upon  their 
threat,  my  father  had  fired  at  the  dark  form  of  the  leader, 
hardly  five  or  six  paces  off.  The  path  was  at  that  point 
very  narrow,  and  skirted  on  one  side  by  a  high  wall  of 
rock,  on  the  other  by  a  diminutive  precipice  some  twenty 
or  five  and  twenty  feet  in  depth,  ending,  as  my  father 
knew,  in  ground  covered  by  the  dense  brushwood  of  the 
latschen.  The  moment  he  fired,  he  leaped  down  the 
precipice,  four  or  five  shots  passing  over  his  head.  The 
weight  of  his  load  saved  him,  for  he  fell  on  his  back, 
the  strong  wicker-work  '  Kraksen  '  in  which  he  carried 
the  gunpowder,  the  article  of  his  venture  on  that  occa- 
sion, breaking  his  fall. 

"The  man  in  his  rear  was  shot,  while  one  of  the  re- 
maining two  was  taken  prisoner,  the  third  escaping. 

"  Hastily  hiding  his  goods  under  some  brushwood,  my 
father  took  to  his  heels,  and  reached  home  in  safety  before 
daybreak.  This  unpleasant  rencontre  naturally  cast  a 
deep  gloom  over  the  members  of  the  '  company '  [as  my 
informer  naively  termed  it].  The  man  who  had  been 
shot  died  the  same  night.  The  official  whom  my  father 
had  shot  at  was  wounded  in  the  arm  ;  while  the  second 
member,  who,  as  I  have  related,  was  captured,  proved 
'  game,'  and  resolutely  refused  to  mention  the  names  of 
his  comrades,  though  he  well  knew  that  his  sentence 
would  only  be  the  severer  by  his  reticence. 

"  Notwithstanding  this,  however,  suspicion    fell   upon 


198    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

my  father,  and  the  house  was  ransacked  by  customs 
officials.  They  not  finding  any  thing  of  a  suspicious 
nature,  my  father  escaped  with  a  solemn  warning.  For 
nearl}-  two  years  their  trade  was  at  a  standstill ;  and  it  was 
only  when  dire  want  stared  us  in  the  face  that  my  father 
thought  of  resimiing  his  dangerous  traffic. 

"  This  time,  however,  he  undertook  it  alone,  and  on  his 
own  account ;  and  by  dint  of  great  caution,  and  by  leav- 
ing an  interval  of  more  than  a  week  between  each  journey, 
he  managed  to  escape  detection  for  a  considerable  period. 
Once,  indeed,  he  was  on  the  point  of  being  discovered. 
The  man  who  always  met  him  on  the  frontier  to  exchange 
tobacco  and  silks  for  the  spirits  or  salt  had  been  prevented 
by  some  reason  or  other  from  keeping  the  rendezvous. 

"  After  waiting  the  whole  night  for  him  in  the  usual 
place,  a  cave,  my  father  determined  to  pass  the  frontier, 
and  repair  to  the  man's  habitation,  an  outlying  peasant's 
cottage  four  or  five  hours  off 

"  Having  washed  his  blackened  face  at  a  brook,  —  as  in 
daytime  it  would  tend  to  attract  attention,  —  he  secreted 
his  rifle  in  the  cave,  and  then  crossed  the  imaginary  fron- 
tier line,  formed  by  a  high  ridge  of  mountains,  and  entered 
Bavaria,  his  native  soil,  untrodden  by  him  for  many  years, 
though  his  'trade'  brought  him  to  within  a  few  yards  of 
its  boundary  forty  or  fifty  times  in  the  year. 

"  He  had  not  proceeded  far  down  the  slopes  on  the 
Bavarian  side  when  he  perceived,  a  short  distance  off,  a 
Bavarian  'Grenzwachter.' 

"Trusting  he  would  let  him  pass  under  the  supposi- 
tion that  he  was  a  peasant  on  a  legitimate  errand,  and 
seeing  that  flight  was  impossible,  he  continued  to  walk  on. 

"  Whether  it  was  that  some  remnant  of  soot  on  my 
father's  face,  or  some  other  sign,  roused  the  officer's  sus- 
picion, certain  it  is  that  on  coming  up  to  him  he  ordered 
my  father  to  show  him  the  contents  of  the  '  Kraksen  '  on 
his  back. 

"  Resistance  to  this  command,  unarmed  as  he  was, 
would  have  been  madness,  the  official  having  his  gun  at 
full  cock  in  his  hands,  ready  to  shoot  at  the  first  sign  of 
resistance. 


THE  SMUGGLER.  199 

"My  father,  pulling  down  his  Ki-aksen,  and  pla)dng 
the  part  of  a  pig-headed  peasant  lout,  replied  that  '  he 
well  knew  that  there  was  no  law  compelling  a  peaceful 
peasant,  carrying  his  butter  from  his  chalet  to  the  village, 
to  show  the  contents  of  his  Kraksen  to  every  man  who 
might  desire  it.  If  he  wanted  to  see  what  was  in  it  he 
would  please  kindly  open  it  himself,  for  he  would  not.' 
The  officer,  though  assured  by  my  father's  quiet  tone  that 
he  was  not  a  smuggler,  but  rather  a  stubborn  peasant  boor, 
thought  he  would  punish  this  saucy  demeanor  by  turning 
the  contents  of  the  Kraksen  upside  down,  and  laying 
aside  his  gun,  bent  down  to  unfasten  the  divers  strings 
that  held  domi  the  lid.  This  was  just  what  my  father 
had  waited  for ;  and  with  one  sledge-hammer  stroke  of 
his  enormous  fist  he  floored  the  unfortunate  officer. 

"  My  father,  of  course,  decamped  v\^ith  his  Isjaksen ; 
but  before  doing  so  he  broke  the  officer's  rifle,  sword,  and 
bayonet  across  his  knee,  leaving  the  pieces  in  a  pile  by 
the  side  of  his  senseless  foe.  Strange  to  say,  he  never 
heard  any  more  of  this  affair ;  but  he  vowed  that  he 
would  never  again  cross  the  Bavarian  frontier,  and  he 
kept  his  word. 

"  Several  years  passed,  and  I  was  about  fourteen,  when 
one  day  my  father  called  me  aside,  and  told  me  in  his 
abrupt  manner  that  he  would  take  me  with  him  on  a 
'journey'  that  night.  My  father's  manner  and  serious 
tone  assured  me  that  my  accompaying  him  was  no  ordi- 
nary occurrence  of  life,  an  impression  rendering  superflu- 
ous the  caution  that  I  was  to  keep  all  that  I  might  see  or 
hear  a  profound  secret.  '  If  you  behave  well  and  do  all 
that  I  tell  you,'  ray  fiither  continued,  '  you  need  not  at- 
tend school  any  longer.'  Now,  this  was  a  grand  and  joy- 
ous vista  to  a  boy  who  detested  school  work  as  I  did ; 
and  though  as  five  months  of  the  year  were  holidays,  and 
I  was  in  the  last  year  of  school,  my  joy  was  perhaps 
foolish  at  my  sudden  promotion  to  manhood,  yet  never- 
theless that  day  was  the  happiest  of  my  life. 

"  Full  of  impatience  and  curiosity,  I  refrained  from 
retiring  to  my  bed  at  the  usual  hour  of  eight  or  half-past, 


200    GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

but  waited  up  for  the  return  of  my  father,  who  had  gone 
out  when  he  had  finished  liis  tilhng  for  the  day.  I  need 
hardly  tell  you  that  my  father's  occupation  as  smugg'ler 
had  been  kept  a  dead  secret ;  only  my  mother  knew  of  it, 
and  when  now  and  again  I  met  him  returning  home  at  an 
early  hour  in  the  morning,  I  never  troubled  my  mind 
about  it. 

"  At  nine  o'clock  my  father  returned,  and  bidding  me 
follow  him,  led  the  way  into  the  dark  night.  For  two 
hours  he  walked  on  with  his  usual  quick  and  long  step. 

"We  had  passed  up  through  a  dense  forest,  and  on 
emerging  from  it  crossed  a  small  plateau,  on  which  were 
scattered  here  and  there  log-built  huts  for  hay. 

"  The  one  highest  up  belonged  to  the  peasant  property 
which  we  rented.  A  low  whistle  of  my  father  was  answered 
in  the  same  key,  and  we  jumped  through  the  hole  giving 
entrance  to  the  hut. 

"  By  the  light  of  a  small  lantern,  which  my  father  lit, 
I  perceived  three  men  sitting  on  logs.  Only  when  two 
of  them  accosted  me  by  my  name  did  I  recognize  my 
uncle  and  one  of  our  neighbors,  their  blackened  faces 
disguising  them  completely.  The  third  man  was  a 
stranger  to  me. 

"  Pulling  out  a  box  full  of  soot,  my  father  proceeded 
to  blacken  his  own  face  and  mine.  While  we  were  busy, 
two  of  the  men  had  pushed  aside  a  heap  of  hay  in  one 
of  the  corners,  and  after  removing  a  few  inches  of  earth, 
they  laid  bare  a  sort  of  trap-door.  Opening  it,  they  both 
disappeared  in  the  cavity  below  it,  re-appearing  in  a  few 
seconds  with  two  large  Kraksen. 

"This  maneuver  they  repeated  twice  or  three  times, 
bringing  to  light  two  more  large  Kraksen,  a  smaller  one 
which  was  apparently  empty,  and  four  rifles. 

"  The  smaller  Kraksen  being  filled  with  hay,  and  the 
lid  carefully  bound  down,  my  father  told  me  to  take  it  on 
my  back,  and  proceeded  to  give  me  his  instructions. 
According  to  them  I  was  to  proceed  at  a  moderate  pace 
up  a  certain  path  leading  towards  the  Bavarian  frontier, 
and  passing  a  deserted  chalet,  about  two  or  two  hours  and 
a  half  from  our  starting-})oint. 


THE  SMUGGLER.  201 

"On  approaching  this  hut  I  was  to  sing  a  certain 
'jodler.'  A  whistle  from  within  would  l)e  my  signal  to 
enter  the  hut,  but  before  entering  I  was  to  '  jodeln'  in  a 
loud  voice.  On  my  way  up,  my  father  continued,  I  should 
at  inten-als  of  five  minutes  give  the  signal  that  all  was 
right,  by  singing.  I  may  mention  that  I  was  by  no  means 
a  bad  singer,  lieing  not  only  a  strong  boy  for  my  age,  but 
possessing  great  taste  for  music,  and  a  strong  voice. 

"  The  four  men  were  to  tbllow  in  my  wake,  leaving  a 
certain  distance  between  me  and  them. 

"The  nature  of  the  business  was  now  no  longer  a 
riddle  to  me ;  and  thus  my  father's  hint,  that  in  case  I 
should  be  stopped  by  anybody  I  should  desist  from 
'jodelning.'and  so  give  them  a  negative  warning,  was 
quite  superfluous. 

•'  A  little  before  half-past  eleven  I  started  in  my  new 
character  as  scout ;  and  right  merrily  did  I  make  my 
'  jodels '  ring  out  in  the  dark  night,  the  surrounding 
heights  and  precipices  returning  the  sound  two  and  three- 
fold. 

"  In  the  allotted  time  I  reached  the  hut ;  and  my  merry 
' A  braunauged's  Dirnd'e  h'an  i'im  Herzen  '  ('A  brown- 
eyed  maid  is  in  my  heart '),  —  the  song  indicated  by  my 
father,  —  was  answered  by  the  preconcerted  low  whistle. 
The  inside  of  the  chalet  was  very  similar  to  the  one  I  had 
left  two  or  three  hours  ago,  the  only  diilerence  being  that 
a  fire  was  burning  on  the  ground,  round  which  four  men 
Avere  taking  their  ease.  The  single  window  there  was 
boarded  up  so  that  not  a  ray  of  light  would  betray  them, 
and  with  their  rifles  at  their  side  the  men  were  evidently 
prepared  for  danger. 

"  All  of  them  being  strangers  to  me,  my  position  was 
for  the  first  moment  somewhat  embarrassing. 

"'  For  the  first  moment,  however,  only ;  for,  slapping 
my  back,  and  praising  my  accurate  ol)servance  of  the 
instructions  received  from  my  father,  they  offered  me  a 
bottle  of  schnapps,  and,  after  I  had  a  good  pull  at  it,  the 
owner  invited  me  to  share  his  seat  beside  the  fire.  How 
grand  it  seemed  to  me  thus  to  be  treated  as  a  man  and 


202     GAD  DINGS  WITH  A    PKIMITI]'E   PEOPLE. 

fellow-smuggler  !     How  elated  I  was  at  the  few  words  of 
l)raise  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  my  '  companions  ! ' 

"  My  father  and  his  three  confederates  shortly  arrived  ; 
and  now  for  the  first  time  I  learned  that  the  venture  of 
that  night  was  one  of  especial  importance,  the  smuggled 
goods  being  of  great  value.  The  Bavarians,  for  such 
were  the  first  occupants  of  the  hut,  after  paying  for  the 
goods  and  leaving  their  bales  of  tobacco,  departed  shortly 
afterwards,  it  being  later  than  usual. 

"  Our  return  was  performed  in  a  manner  similar  to  our 
journey  thither ;  and  having  deposited  our  Kraksen  and 
rifles  in  the  usual  hiding-place,  we  reached  our  respective 
homes  shortly  after  break  of  day. 

"  Thus  ended  my  momentous  debut  in  the  character 
of  smuggler.  The  sense  of  danger  lurking  at  one's  heels, 
the  free  life,  and,  lastly  but  not  least,  the  animating  in- 
fluence of  the  constant  state  of  alertness  which  must  dis- 
tinguish a  smuggler  successful  in  his  craft,  engendered  in 
me  the  resolution  that  henceforth  free-trading  should  be 
my  occupation,  and  success  in  it  the  goal  of  miy  ambition. 

"  For  tu'O  years  I  acted  as  my  father's  scout,  and  on 
two  different  occasions  did  my  tactics  save  him  and  his 
companions.  When  I  v/as  stopped  in  my  nocturnal 
wanderings  by  the  usual  '  Halt,  or  we  shoot ! '  of  the 
'  Grenzwachter,'  you  can  paint  to  yourself  their  dis- 
appointment and  mortification  when  the  supposed  smug- 
gler turned  out  to  be  but  a  poor  '  Wurzengraber '  —  digger 
of  roots — and  the  contents  of  my  Kraksen,  the  object 
of  their  researches,  proved  to  be  roots  of  the  Gentiana  ^ 
—  or  other  Alpine  plants. 

"  My  two  years'  apprenticeship  had  made  me  an  expert 
and  daring  smuggler ;  and  you  can  conceive  my  pleasure 
when  one  day  my  father  announced  to  me  that  hence- 
forth I  should  participate  in  their  gains,  and  '  carry  my 
own  goods.' 

"  To  enable  me  to  buy  the  necessary  stock  for  my  first 
two  or  three  ventures,  my  father  handed  me  a  compara- 

1  These  roots  are  used  very  largely  for  distillins  purposes,  a  strong  and  bittei 
spirit  being  manufactured  from  them. 


THE  SMUGGLER.  203 

lively  ample  sum  of  money,  making  me,  however,  prom- 
ise that  I  would  pay  off  my  debt  by  installments. 

'•  For  two  years  our  trade  went  on  swimmingly,  and  I 
was  laying  up  money  for  the  proverbial  rainy  day.  Soon- 
er than  we  thought,  did  it  make  its  appearance.  One 
night  on  our  return  from  the  usual  place  of  meeting,  as 
we  were  hurrying  down  the  narrow  path  leading  to  the 
hut  where  we  used  to  conceal  our  goods,  the  ominous 
challenge  of  the  Grenzwachter  brought  us  to  a  dead  halt. 
From  the  front  and  from  the  rear  we  were  inclosed,  and 
the  formidable  precipice  at  our  side  prevented  any  escape 
in  that  direction. 

"  My  father,  who  was  leading,  fired,  I  following  suit  a 
second  later.  Of  what  happened  afterwards  I  can  give 
you  no  clear  description.  A  fierce  struggle  with  one  of 
the  Grenzwachter  occupied  me  for  the  next  few  minutes. 
I^Iy  great  strength  enabled  me  to  rid  myself  of  my  foe 
very  soon.  Not  so,  however,  of  one  of  his  mates,  who, 
larger  than  I,  made  a  fierce  rush  at  me  the  moment  I  had 
regained  my  breath.  I  closed  with  him,  and  a  terrible 
struggle  began.  Hither  and  thither  we  swayed,  both  of 
us  trying  to  use  our  knives,  but  each  firmly  grasping  the 
arm  of  the  other.  At  last  my  firm  grasp  with  my  free 
hand  upon  my  foe's  throat  began  to  tell,  and  a  few  seconds 
later  he  was  lying  half-dead  at  my  feet.  My  father,  who 
had  shot  the  leader,  had  been  himself  wounded  by  a  bul- 
let, but  not  so  severely  as  to  render  him  Jwis  de  combat. 
One  of  our  two  confederates  was  disabled  :  the  other  was 
engaged  in  a  fierce  combat  with  two  officials,  who  were 
endeavoring  to  get  at  him  with  their  swords,  Avhile  he  kept 
them  off  with  his  clubbed  rifle. 

"  Matters  were  terribly  critical ;  I)ut  there  was  yet  some 
chance  of  escape  for  those  who  were  not  disabled,  when, 
to  my  dismay  and  horror,  I  heard  shouts  of  approaching 
men,  and  a  second  or  two  later  three  shots  rang  out,  and 
my  father,  to  whose  aid  I  was  just  making,  fell  to  the 
ground  with  a  groan.  The  feeble  moonlight  enabled  me 
to  perceive  that  a  re-enforcement  of  three  men,  probably 
stationed  iixrther  down  the  road,  had  arrived. 


204    GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

"They  were  standing  two  abreast,  the  third  at  their  rear, 
when,  maddened  by  my  father's  fall,  and  knowing  that  this 
was  my  only  chance  of  escape,  I  rushed  at  them,  and  by 
the  mere  impetus  of  my  attack  sent  one  sprawling  to  the 
ground,  while  the  second  gave  way,  and  the  third,  at  his 
back,  was  floored  by  a  blow  of  my  clubbed  rifle.  Pursuit 
v/as  vain:  my  limbs  and  sinews,  strung  to  their  utmost, 
would  have  defied  much  fleeter  men  than  they.  I  reached 
home  covered  v/ith  perspiration,  and  nearly  out  of  my 
v.'its  at  the  fate  of  my  father.  Help  of  any  kind  was  out 
of  the  question  ;  and  the  only  thing  that  remained  for  me 
to  do  was  to  inform  my  mother  of  his  fate,  and  collect 
such  trifles  as  I  needed,  together  with  the  money  I  had 
saved.  I  knew  that  in  a  few  hours  our  house  would  be 
closely  searched  for  me.  Bidding  a  teariul  farewell  to 
my  mother,  and  telling  her  to  v/rite  to  me  to  her  brother 
living  in  South  Tyrol,  I  was  off  within  twenty  minutes  of 
my  arrival. 

"  Skirting  the  high  roads,  and  keeping  to  forest-paths, 
I  was  fortunate  enough  to  reach  the  next  town  within 
fourteen  hours  of  my  leaving  our  remote  homestead. 

"  I  slept  in  the  hayloft  of  one  of  the  houses  outside  of 
the  town,  and  proceeded  on  my  weary  tramp  the  next 
day  at  sunrise. 

"  Eleven  days  of  marching  brought  me  finally  to  my 
destination,  my  uncle's  house,  where  I  found  a  letter 
from  my  mother,  in  which  she  informed  me  that  my 
father  had  died  shortly  after  receiving  his  second  and  fatal 
wound,  that  one  of  our  companions  was  severely  wounded, 
and  the  other  captured. 

"  The  Grenzwachter  had  two  dead  and  three  wounded  : 
you  see,  therefore,  that  our  resistance  was  a  vigorous  one. 

"  For  more  than  five  years  I  stopped  with  my  uncle, 
aiding  him  in  his  timber  trade,  and  extending  a  helping 
hand  wherever  it  was  needed.  On  my  uncle's  death  I 
inherited  half  his  modest  fortune,  v/hich  I  embarked  in 
cattle.  In  the  course  of  the  next  fifteen  years  I  made  a 
number  of  journeys  to  Russia  with  varying  success,  so 
that  at  the  end  of  this  period,  on  getting  tired   of  my 


THE  SMUGGLER.  205 

wandering  life,  I  found  myself  the  richer  by  nearly  2,500 
florins  (less  than  ^250).  I  gave  up  my  cattle  business, 
and  being  then  nearly  forty,  I  resolved  to  marry. 

"  My  mother  had  died  years  before,  and  the  residue 
of  my  father's  savings,  his  brother  had  received. 

"  On  visiting  my  old  home,  I  could  not  refrain  from 
seeing  if  my  smuggler  comrade,  who  had  been  taken 
prisoner  that  disastrous  night,  was  still  living.  On  enter- 
ing his  house,  quite  close  to  my  home,  now  in  strange 
hands,  I  learned  that  he  had  died  ten  or  twelve  years  be- 
fore, and  that  his  widow  had  married  again.  His  daugh- 
ter had  accompanied  her  mother  to  her  new  home  some 
distance  off,  that  peasant's  house  yonder.  Having  nothing 
better  on  hand,  I  determined  to  visit  the  widow  of  the 
most  intimate  friend  of  my  youth.  On  this  visit  I  made 
the  acquaintance  of  Nannie,  now  my  wife.  Young,  very 
pretty,  gay,  and  well  aware  that  she  was  the  heiress  to  a 
goodly  fortune  for  a  peasant-girl,  she  lent  any  thing  but  a 
willing  ear  to  the  courting  of  a  somewhat  mysterious  per- 
sonage, more  than  double  her  age  (she  was  then  seven- 
teen), with  no  home  over  his  head,  and,  for  aught  she 
knew,  a  penniless  beggar ;  I  had  refrained  from  telling 
her  or  her  mother  of  my  savings.  Twice  I  abked  her 
if  she  would  have  me,  and  twice  I  was  refused.  Hum- 
bled in  my  own  eyes,  and  mortified  at  the  girl's  disdain, 
I  left  her  dangerous  neighborhood  shortly  after  my  second 
repulse. 

"  In  my  frame  of  mind,  dissatisfied  as  I  was  with  my- 
self and  with  the  world  in  general,  the  recollection  of 
my  youtliful  life  as  smuggler  had  a  strange  charm  ;  what 
if  the  mature  man,  long  past  the  giddy  days  of  youth, 
should  exchange  a  life  of  daily  drudgery  and  poor  re- 
turns for  the  free  and  animating  avocation  to  which  I 
had  served  my  apprenticeship  twenty  long  years  before? 
More  and  more  did  this  [jlan  attract  me  ;  and  from  day 
to  day  the  life  of  a  smuggler,  w  itli  its  constant  danger, 
seemed  the  only  way  to  dispel  my  discontent.  Deter- 
mined and  impulsive  as  I  am,  it  did  not  take  long  to 
ripen  my  plans.     My  money  placed  in  safe  hands,  I  at 


2o6    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

once  made  overtures  to  a  set  of  smugglers  by  reputation 
more  daring  and  bold  than  the  ordinary  run  of  men  of 
this  stamp.  A  week  later  I  was  a  member  of  their  '  com- 
pany,' and  had  opened  my  campaign  with  an  expedition 
of  more  than  usual  importance. 

"  Chopping  and  changing  from  one  place  to  another, 
just  where  my  fancy  and  the  promise  of  large  returns  led 
me,  I  passed  seven  years.  A  lull  in  my  trade  enabled 
me  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  house  of  Nannie's  stepfather.  I 
had  not  seen  her  during  the  intervening  years.  Hand- 
somer than  she  was  at  seventeen,  sedate,  and  more  at- 
tractive than  ever,  the  girl  enchained  my  heart  a  second 
time  ;  this  time,  however,  my  wooing  was  crowned  with 
success,  and  a  few  months  later  I  led  my  bride  to  the 
altar.  My  savings  and  the  returns  of  my  seven-years' 
smuggling  ventures  had  nearly  quadrupled  the  original 
sum.  I  bought  the  house  we  are  sitting  in,  and  the  twen- 
ty-five acres  surrovmding  it.  For  several  years  I  lived 
the  life  of  a  steady-going  peasant,  happy  and  content. 
Gradually,  however,  my  quiet  humdrum  life  began  to 
pall  upon  me,  and  an  irrepressible  longing  to  return  to 
my  old  life  came  back.  Rich,  with  all  the  comforts  of 
hfe  I  desired,  a  loving  and  devoted  wife  at  my  side,  and 
two  children  at  my  knee,  I  might  well  have  been  thought 
mad  to  endanger  my  life  by  exchanging  my  present  posi- 
tion for  that  of  a  smuggler.  Still,  do  what  I  would,  the 
recollections  of  my  old  life  were  for  ever  dazzling  my  eyes. 

"  My  former  confederates,  eager  to  win  me  back  to  my 
old  course,  succeeded  at  last  in  their  endeavors.  On  and 
off,  leaving  often  an  interval  of  a  month  between  ven- 
tures, I  left  my  home  for  the  two  or  three  days  necessary 
to  reach  and  return  from  the  scene  of  our  smuggling 
operations.  Fortune  seemed  to  favor  me,  for  not  once 
were  we  stopped.  My  three  companions,  who  looked 
upon  smuggling  as  the  means  of  gaming  their  daily  bread, 
and  not,  as  I  did,  as  a  pastime,  had  been  fortunate  in 
their  transactions,  so  that  one  by  one  they  dropped  off, 
settling  down  in  each  case  as  steady  peasants.  The  time 
you  saw  us  we  had  lost  only  one  member,  the  second  one 


rilE  SMUGGLER.  207 

following  his  example  a  short  time  afterwards.  My  wife, 
to  whom  I  had  confided  my  design,  was  of  course  greatly 
against  it  from  tlie  beginning,  imploring  me  to  desist  from 
my  ruinous  procedure.  Four  years  ago,  when  my  third 
and  last  companion  resolved  to  bid  adieu  to  the  trade, 
she  at  last  succeeded  in  making  me  promise  never  again 
to  put  the  mask  before  my  face. 

"  Since  that  day  I  have  lived  a  happy  and  contented 
life  ;  the  youthful  fire  has  burnt  out,  and  the  wreck  of 
the  former  smuggler  is  stranded  high  and  dry  on  the 
shore  of  home  life." 

It  was  late  when  this  simple  narrative  of  a  life  of  rest- 
less adventures  came  to  a  close,  and  the  stalwart,  broad- 
shouldered  man  of  sixty,  rising  from  his  seat,  proffered 
me  his  brawny  palm.  With  mine  resting  in  his  strong 
grip,  and  willi  glistening  eyes,  while  pointing  to  the  door 
of  the  next  room,  where  his  wife  lay  asleep,  he  remarked 
with  deep  feeling,  "  My  hfe's  gratitude  can  not  repay  my 
debt  to  that  woman  :  she  it  was,  and  she  alone,  that  saved 
me  perhaps  from  an  ignominious  death,  and  made  me 
the  man  I  am." 


2oS    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER  XIL 

ALPINE    CHARACTERS  :    THE   MOUNTAIN    BELLE. 

AN  old  German  proverb,  oft  quoted  by  sixteenth-cen- 
tury authors,  says  :  "  If  thou  wilt  be  jolly  for  a  day, 
kill  a  pig  ;  if  thou  purposest  to  spend  a  festive  week,  have 
thyself  bled  and  thy  skin  well  scoured  in  the  bath  ;  if  thou 
wishest  to  be  happy  for  a  month,  take  to  thyself  a  young 
and  buxom  wife  :  but  if  thou  desirest  peace  for  the  rest 
of  thy  days,  do  neither." 

What  a  vast  field  for  the  pen  plowshare  of  a  fastidi- 
ous critic  does  this  quaint  saying  present !  Strange  as  it 
may  sound,  I  would,  however,  humbly  suggest  to  the 
carper  intent  upon  caviling  at  this  emanation  of  mediae- 
val moralists,  that  before  he  puts  pen  to  paper  he  spend  a 
summer  holiday  on  a  visit  to  any  one  of  the  hundred 
remote  Tyrolese  villages  nestling  among  somber  pine  for- 
ests, and  overshadowed  by  craggy  ridges  of  Alpine  peaks 
far  out  of  the  track  of  the  busy  throng  —  a  primitive  little 
ant-hill  world  by  itself 

An  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  robust  inhabitants 
—  manly,  not  to  say  defiant,  in  their  bearing,  hardwork- 
ing, but  strangely  vigorous  and  healthy,  poor,  but  oddly 
content  and  satisfied  with  their  lot,  would  prove  to  our 
frondeur  that  in  this  sprout  of  the  dull  mind  of  our  fore- 
father moralists,  lies  embedded  a  pearl  of  truth. 

Poverty,  or  rather  Dame  Nature  herself,  by  bequeath- 
ing to  this  hardy  race  a  wretched  soil  and  an  inhospitable 
clime,  has  providentially  taken  care  that  the  jolly  days 
spent  at  the  cost  of  pigs'  lives  are  of  a  limited  number ; 
and  likewise   has    she,  by  instilling   into   their  minds   a 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  209 

wholesome  horror  of  all  doctors,  and,  alas  !  of  water  also, 
guarded  against  the  frequent  return  of  festive  weeks  ;  and, 
lastly,  have  the  people  themselves  —  their  primitive  good 
sense  deser\-es  all  comment  —  recognized,  perhaps  unwit- 
tingly, perhaps  after  bitter  experience,  the  striking  truth 
in  these  momentous  words  :  "  If  thou  desirest  peace  for 
the  rest  of  thy  days,  then  do  neither." 

True,  impaired  digestions,  and  minds  morbidly  alive  to 
the  so-called  blessings  of  ^sculap's  craft,  are  decidedly 
more  according  to  the  dictates  of  civilization,  than  irugal 
habits  ;  for  dirt,  mind  you,  is  eminently  healthy,  provided 
it  is  not  that  of  civilization,  but  rather  the  cobwebbed 
mustiness  of  primitive  habits  —  the  dirt,  in  fact,  of  those 
generations  of  our  forefathers,  who  knew  not  what  soap 
was,  and  yet  were  men  of  a  stamp  which  our  modern  civ- 
ilization but  very  rarely  manages  to  produce. 

It  is,  however,  not  so  much  with  the  nice  discernment 
evinced  by  the  TjTolese  in  regard  to  what  is  good  for  them 
in  the  way  of  eating,  and  respecting  the  degree  of  clean- 
liness which  is  beneficial  to  their  vigorous  health,  that  we 
wish  to  deal,  but  rather  with  their  wonderful  acumen  that 
led  them  to  recognize  the  sophistic  meaning  of  those 
words,  "  then  do  neither." 

If  on  examining  the  idiosyncrasies  of  this  old  and  com- 
mon-sense race  we  are  lured  into  the  belief  that,  appar- 
ently, they  fail  to  act  up  to  the  letter  of  the  v/arning,  or, 
iii  other  words,  that  a  certain  percentage  of  the  males 
do  take  unto  themselves  wives,  this  discovery,  on  further 
consideration,  turns  out  to  be  a  chimera ;  for  though  a 
number  of  luckless  wights  commit  that  act  of  self-abnega- 
tion, for,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  would  say,  the  good  of  their 
race,  they  withal  act  upon  the  old  proved),  which,  witliout 
their  really  ever  acknowledging  or  clearly  knowing  of  its 
existence,  has  made  them  what  they  are ;  for  they  but 
rarely  take  unto  themselves  that  article  against  which  the 
old  romancers  waxed  wroth,  namely,  a  young  and  buxom 
wife,  but  rather  lead  to  the  altar  what  was  once  upon  a 
time  young  and  buxom,  but  now  is  middle-aged,  —  a 
p'.TSon,  in  fact,  of  whose  qualities  of  character  they  have 


2IO    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

assured  themselves  by  long  experience,  who  in  the  hey- 
day of  her  youth  rewarded  her  future  husband,  the  bold 
champion  of  many  a  sanguinary  contest  for  her  favors, 
with  the  free  love  of  impulsive  youth. 

The  Tyrolese  are  a  stanch  old  race,  strong  in  their 
desires,  and,  as  everybody  knows,  singularly  attached  to 
their  soil,  and  the  customs  of  their  forefathers.  Hitherto 
they  have  resolutely  turned  their  backs  upon  civilization  ; 
and  Nature,  hiduig  them  away  airiong  the  remotest  re- 
cesses of  the  Alps,  has  herself  helped  very  naturally  in 
warding  off  the  advances,  good  and  bad,  of  the  idol  to 
which  we  all  bow  down. 

Their  lives  are  a  true  mirror  of  the  thoughts  and  fea- 
tures, not  of  the  late  Middle  Ages,  as  has  often  been 
remarked,  but  of  centuries  preceding  that  period,  when 
man  was  man,  however  uncouth,  and  perhaps,  to  a  civil- 
ized eye,  uninviting  in  aspect. 

All  this  is  on  the  eve  of  radical  changes.  Civihzation 
is  making  rapid  strides  in  its  endeavors  to  level  the  people 
to  the  common  standard  of  half-educated  clodhoppers 
who  know  hov.'  to  handle  a  steam-plow,  and  equally  well 
how  to  cheat  their  neighbors.  The  change  will  soon  be 
rung ;  but  for  the  people's  character,  and  I  maintain  also 
for  their  moral  tone,  it  is  a  Welsher's  ring.  Their  manly 
uprightness,  their  primitive  yet  honest  dealing  between 
themselves,  will  soon  be  a  thing  of  the  past,  and  in  future 
will  be  replaced  by  "  civilized  "  sharpness;  and  for  their 
characteristic  features,  their  love  of  the  soil  and  independ- 
ent tone,  will  be  substituted  the  uniform  'cutcness  of  a 
new  world,  where  man  —  his  specific  idiosyncrasies  —  is 
whitewashed  by  a  degenerating  coat  of  selfish  greed  of 
gain,  while  the  counterbalancing  merits  of  enlightenment 
and  real  civilization  are  thrust  from  the  site  of  this  regen- 
eration by  the  hand  of  Nature. 

But  what,  the  reader  will  exclaim,  has  all  this  to  do  with 
the  heading  of  our  chapter?  what  connection  can  there 
possibly  exist  between  a  mountain  belle  and  cogitations  of 
such  a  dismal  cast  ?  And  yet  there  is  a  link,  and  a  very 
strong  one,  between  the  history  of  a  rural  beauty  and  our 


THE  MOUNTALV  BELLE.  211 

si)eculations  respecting  the  future  of  the  country ;  for,  kind 
reader,  you  must  know  that  much  of  what  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  of  the  fair  one's  life  belongs  already  actually  to 
the  past,  or  stands,  at  least,  on  the  verge  of  oblivion, 
awaiting  that  self-same  civilization's  sarcastic  sneer  to  con- 
sign it  to  the  grave,  or  to  the  rambling  memory  of  some 
old  hag,  who  some  years  hence,  perhaps,  will  astonish 
interviewing  Cookites  with  a  garbled  account  of  her  youth- 
ful love  and  folly. 

There  are,  however,  one  or  two  spots  left  —  favorite 
resorts  of  mine  —  where  many  of  the  old  customs  are 
still  to  be  witnessed,  not  by  the  casual  tourist,  it  is  true, 
—  for  successive  generations  of  bold  young  champions 
guard  them  most  vigilantly  against  prying  eyes,  —  but  by 
those  who  have  succeeded,  by  dint  of  assimilation  to  their 
habits,  customs,  and  language,  in  pemnrating  .he  outer  coat 
of  reserve,  and  in  gaining  their  confidence. 

Will  the  reader  be  introduced  to  one  of  these  favored 
spots?  If  so,  he  had  better  accept  the  proffered  invita- 
tion of  the  robust  young  giant  dressed  in  his  Sunday  best, 
in  his  hat  a  bunch  of  bright  carnations,  and  a  bold  feather 
of  the  blackcock,  the  latter  '■  turned  "  in  the  most  ap- 
proved champion  fashion,  to  accompany  him  on  his  walk 
up  to  yonder  Alp,  whither  '■  business  "  takes  him. 

It  is  a  balmy  summer  Sunday  morning.  Every  thing 
around  us  appears  fresh  and  green  ;  the  snowy  peaks  that 
ride  overhead  look  enticingly  cool,  as  they  stand  out  in 
bold  relief  against  the  blue  —  the  Alpine  blue  —  of  the 
heavens  :  far,  far  below  us  stands,  amid  a  group  of  timber 
cottages,  tlie  little  cleanly  whitewashed  village  church,  a 
speck  of  white  in  the  vast  expanse  of  various  tints  of  ver- 
dant green.  The  eight-o'clock  service  is  being  rung  in, 
and  the  soft  melodious  tones  are  wafted  up,  intermingled 
now  and  again  by  the  distant  echoes  of  a  joyous  jodel, 
issuing  from  the  massive  chest  of  some  stalwart  young 
swain,  climbing,  miles  u[)on  miles  av/ay  from  our  own 
point  of  view,  the  steep  declivities  leading  to  the  upland 
pasturages,  and  bent,  as  he  would  tell  you,  were  you  to  ask 
him,  on  precisely  the  same  errand  as  lends  such  length  of 


212     GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMiriVE   PEOPLE. 

stride,  such  vigor,  to  our  companion  at  our  side,  —  some 
mysterious  business,  brooking  no  delay,  in  tlie  lonely  Alp- 
hut  on  high.  We  have  to  put  our  best  foot  foremost  to 
keep  up  with  our  eager  young  friend,  who  scales  the  steep 
declivities,  v/ho  vaults  the  swift  Alpine  streamlet  coursing 
down  from  the  snow-fields  above,  with  a  rapidity  and  ease 
such  as  only  muscles  born  and  bred  to  Alpine  work  can 
command. 

"  But,  pray,"  we  are  half  inclined  to  ask  of  our  compan- 
ion, "  what  might  be  the  nature  of  this  pressing  errand 
that  lures  you  away,  the  only  day  you  have  to  yourself, 
from  human  haunts,  from  your  boon  companions  ;  that 
prompts  you  to  exchange  the  ga,y  scene  of  the  shooting- 
match  held  this  afternoon  in  the  village,  and  where  you 
were  sure  of  winning  a  prize,  or  the  no  less  exciting  skit- 
tle-match where  are  j)itted  the  best  players  of  two  rival 
villages,  for  the  lonely  AJp-hut  on  high?  "  Shall  we  press 
him  to  divulge  the  true  reason  ?  We  had  better  not,  me- 
tliinks ;  for  were  we  to  do  so,  we  would  hear  that  a  cow- 
now  about  to  calve,  a  bull  suddenly  to  be  fetched  from 
the  highland  pasturages  to  be  slaughtered,  or  some  other 
equally  innocent  beast  in  sore  exigency,  required  the 
presence  of  our  guide  ;  and  after  all  a  very  Simon  Pure 
would  soon  detect  the  real  nature  of  the  errand,  even 
without  the  tell-tale  flowers,  the  elated  air,  and  the  long- 
drawn,  far-echoing  jodler,  that  now  is  sent  forth  into 
the  tranquil  morning  air.  What  dullard  could  mistake 
the  import  of  that  strain,  so  full  of  exuberant  life  and 
vigor,  so  full  of  tell-tale  longing,  and  yet  withal  from  the 
first  note  to  the  last  so  strikingly  melodious  and  pleas- 
ingly harmonious  in  its  varied  cadence  ? 

The  echoes  are  yet  ringing  from  side  to  side  of  the 
valley,  when  from  far  above  us  floats  down  the  answer, 
emanating  not  from  a  rival's  stalwart  breast,  swelled  by 
jealous  wrath,  but  from  the  full  lips  of  the  buxom  lass  for 
whose  ear  the  strain,  so  full  of  appealing  import,  was  in- 
tended. A  note  or  two  higher,  in  the  full  sweetness  of  a 
woman's  silvery  voice,  it  strikes  the  ear  yet  more  sweetly 
than  did  the  more  sonorous  love-cry  of  the  man.     At  last 


THE  I\IOUNTArX  BELLE.  213 

the  echoes  have  died  away,  lost  in  the  somber  forests  at 
our  feet,  in  grand  Nature,  herself;  they  have  returned  to 
her  that  created  them. 

Our  companion  jerks  his  hat  more  on  one  side,  and 
throws  his  jacket  jauntily  over  his  shoulder,  while  a  smile 
of  elated  pride  spreads  over  his  face,  as  we  resume  our 
upward  march. 

"  Ah,  sir  !  "  he  presently,  in  the  fullness  of  his  heart,  will 
begin,  "  she's  all  that  I  have,  she's  more  than  life  itself  to 
me  ;  she's  the  truest,  the  prettiest  lass  in  the  village." 

We  let  him  talk  on,  for  his  heart  is  brim-full  of  joy  :  he 
has  a  happy  twenty-four  hours  before  him. 

His  mind  is  free  from  trouble  and  care  ;  for  before  set- 
ting out,  like  a  good  Christian  he  attended  four-o'clock 
mass,  and  afterwards  confessed  the  last  fortnight's  sins 
and  transgressions.  Absolution  was  accorded  him,  and 
he  started  on  his  lover's  errand  with  a  clean  bill  of  eternal 
health.  Won't  it  please  his  pretty  dark-eyed  "  Kati," 
when  he  tells  her  that  the  good  kind  Herr  Vicar  granted 
him  absolution  so  readily,  no  penance  to  speak  of  was 
imposed;  for  the  three  "rosaries"  he  got  will  be  prayed 
in  the  company  of  his  lass,  kneeling  at  the  large  weather- 
cross  standing  beside  her  elevated  summer  residence, 
where  one  short  twelvemonth  ago  he  plighted  his  troth. 
From  that  day  the  dark-eyed  lassie  was  his  sole  though 
perliaps  not  undisputed  property. 

Long  strides  and  powerful  lungs  take  us  up  the  last 
steep  incline  in  double-quick  time,  and  presently  we  gain 
the  eminence,  and  sally  forth  from  the  somber  pine-cov- 
ered forest  into  an  undulating  Alpine  plateau  covered 
with  verdure  from  end  to  end.  There  yonder  stands 
the  lowly  little  hut,  the  timber  browned  by  time  and 
weather ;  and  in  front  of  it  sits  the  pretty  queen  of  this 
Alpine  retreat,  fair  "  Kati."  Our  steps  quicken,  and  soon 
we  are  at  her  side.  Her  dimpled  cheek  of  a  healthy 
brown  is  permeated  by  a  pleasant  smile  as  she  extends 
her  hand  to  us.  We  turn  to  watch  the  greeting  between 
the  two  lovers  ;  but  beyond  a  warm  smile,  and  perhaps  a 
shade  more  color  on  her  face,  nothing  betrays  that  he  is 


214    GADDTNGS  IV/TI/  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

more  to  her  than  we  the  strangers.  She  does  not  give 
him  her  hand,  nor  does  he  seem  to  expect  it ;  and  where 
more  demonstrative  mortals  would  have  gushingly  evinced 
their  mutual  delight,  they  turn  aside  from  each  other  reti- 
cent and  self-possessed.  But  so  they  are,  these  moun- 
tain-bred children  of  stern  nature.  Reserved  to  a'degree, 
they  are  only  too  prone  to  exhibit  to  the  curious  gaze  of 
the  stranger  their  cold  rugged  outside,  gnarled  by  hard 
work  and  privation.  To  him  it  is  enough  to  know  that 
he  is  near  her,  that  presently  under  the  cover  of  some 
kuidly  shelter  he  will  press  her  to  his  heart,  while  to  her  — 
who  for  the  last  fortnight  has  most  probably  not  seen  any 
human  face,  much  less  set  eyes  upon  the  constant  object 
of  her  thoughts  —  the  bunch  of  bright  carnations  vdiich 
she  has  stolen  from  her  lover's  hat  will  in  the  mean  while 
be  the  visible  proof  of  his  presence.  AVe  sit  down  on  the 
narrow  bench  while  our  hostess  hurries  to  her  under- 
ground dairy  to  fetch  milk,  butter,  and  bread.  Presently 
she  returns,  picking  her  steps  daintily  over  the  large  step- 
ping-stones that  enable  one  to  reach  the  hut  dry-shod ; 
for  like  all  these  primitive  huts  —  Arcadian  temples  we 
have  heard  them  called  —  a  quagmire  of  not  the  sweetest 
character  surrounds  the  dwelling.  Usually  she  is  not  as 
careful,  but  to-day,  the  day  of  rest,  she  has  five  or  six 
hours  to  herself;  so  after  finishing  her  morning  work  of 
milking,  and  settling  up  the  cowshed,  she  has  washed  and 
scrubbed  herself,  has  platted  her  long  tresses,  and  for  the 
bright  hours  of  repose  has  donned  her  Sunday  gown  and 
shoes  and  stockings.  The  milk  and  butter  are  rendered 
all  the  more  inviting  by  the  kindly  way  she  presses  us  to 
partake  of  them,  by  the  finely-formed  hand  stretching 
across  the  table,  a  hand  seemingly  incapable  of  the  hard 
masculine  work  it  has  to  do,  and  by  the  dark,  quiet  eyes 
that  are  bent  upon  us  with  a  winning  smile.  Again  she 
disappears  into  the  hut,  returning  presently  with  a  hoarded 
bottle  of  kirsch,  or  some  other  kindred  spirit  she  herself 
has  distilled  in  a  most  primitive  fashion  from  some  Alpine 
fruit.  She  tastes  of  it,  and  then  presents  it  to  her  lover, 
vvho,  after  a  hearty  pull  at  its  contents,  returns  it  with  a 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  215 

contented  mien ;  for,  let  it  be  mentioned  here,  this  pota- 
tion means  much. 

It  is  a  love-draught,  and  none  but  a  lover  will  ever  be 
offered  the  like  by  fair  hands.  It  is  the  first  token  by 
which  the  charmer  evinces  her  preference,  and  hence  the 
saying,  "  He  has  drunk  of  her  liquor,"  is  tantamount  to 
—  well,  never  mind  to  what ;  certainly  to  more  than  is 
good  for  the  young  people.  Once  that  magic  drink  has 
wetted  the  manly  lips,  the  house  of  the  fair  one,  be  it  the 
lonely  Alp-hut  or  the  more  substantial  peasant's  house  in 
the  village,  is  open  to  him ;  and  the  peasant  in  whose 
service  the  lass  stands  concedes  to  him  free  ingress  when, 
after  the  hard  day's  toil  is  over,  the  womenfolk  sit  round 
the  wood-paneled  living-room  spinning  or  straining  flax, 
while  the  men  lean  half  recumbent,  with  their  backs  to 
the  stove,  smoking  their  evening  pipes.  He  drops  in 
then,  and,  sitting  at  the  side  of  his  lass,  will  add  his  quota 
of  chat  to  the  general  conversation. 

Or,  again,  on  Sundays  he  need  not  ask  her  master's 
consent,  if  a  village  dance  or  shooting-match  attracts 
rural  crov/ds  to  the  chief  inn,  to  take  his  girl  hither. 
Their  relationship  to  each  other  is  tacitly  understood  ;  and 
till  the  lass  herself  gives  him  the  go-by,  lie  need  not  dread 
any  interference  on  the  part  of  the  peasant. 

It  is  different  if  the  girl  is  at  home,  and  the  parents 
have  by  a  quiet  hint  evinced  their  disapprobation  of  the 
lover's  advances.  ]\Ia}'be  the  girl  is  the  daughter  of  a 
rich  peasant,  while  the  swain  is  a  poor  lad  solely  depend- 
ent upon  his  hands  for  a  living ;  or,  again,  his  worldly 
prospects  may  be  such  as  would  entitle  him  to  a  friendly 
reception  on  the  part  of  her  parents,  but  then  strange 
whispers  respecting  his  character  are  abroad,  —  report 
points  him  out  as  having  already  tasted  of  several  maid- 
ens' liquor ;  or  tattlers  will  know  that  the  free  chamois  on 
yonder  mountains  have  too  great  attractions  for  the  wild 
young  poacher  who  is  quite  willing  to  stake  his  life  in  the 
forbidden  pursuit. 

In  such  cases,  all  the  stratagems  of  love  arc  brought 
into  play  ;  the  iron-grated  window  of  the  fiiir  one's  cham- 


2i6      GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

ber  is  the  nocturnal  trysting-place,  and  the  important 
flask,  endowing  the  bold  suitor  with  prerogatives  so  long 
desired,  is  handed  through  the  bars  which  only  too  often 
prove  inefficient  barbican  in  the  hands  of  vigorous  youth 
inflamed  by  hot  passion. 

In  the  case  before  us  we  need  not  inquire  if  the  swain's 
advances  met  the  approbation  of  his  love's  friends.  The 
girl  is  a  poor  lass,  earning  her  bread  as  dairymaid  to  a 
peasant.  Her  mother,  once  a  beauty  like  her,  is  long 
dead ;  she  never  knew  who  her  father  was,  beyond  the 
suspicions  awakened  in  her  mind  by  scandal-loving  old 
women. 

Like  so  many  of  her  sisters,  she  is  the  offspring  of  pas- 
sion. Sent  up  to  the  lonely  Alp  for  a  long  six  months, 
at  the  tender  age  of  seventeen,  this  was  her  second  sea- 
son on  high.  Cut  off  from  the  world,  rarely  seeing  a 
human  face  beyond  the  gruff  features  of  a  stray  keeper 
who  sees  in  her  a  willing  helpmate  of  his  enemies,  or  the 
blackened  visage  of  a  poacher,  and  the  morose  old 
"knecht  "  who  every  fortnight  brings  her  bread  and  salt 
for  the  cattle  in  exchange  for  v/hich  he  returns  with  a 
heavy  load  of  butter  and  cheese,  she  is  left  entirely  to  her 
own  resources. 

She  has  to  tackle  the  vicious  bull  single-handed  ;  she 
has  to  tame  the  cow,  no  longer,  since  her  calf  was  taken 
away  from  her,  the  docile  creature  that  would  come  when 
she  called  her  name.  The  fierce  thunderstorm,  the  no 
less  trying  heavy  fall  of  snow  in  September,  the  swollen  tor- 
rent that  threatens  to  carry  away  her  hut,  all  have  to  be 
met  by  ready  defense  and  prompt  means  of  warding  off 
the  threatening  danger.  Heavy  stones  have  to  be  piled 
on  the  shingle  roof  of  the  hut  to  keep  it  from  being  blown 
away ;  the  snow,  accumulated  to  an  astonishing  depth  in 
the  course  of  one  night,  has  to  be  cleared  off  round  the 
hut,  and  a  path  made  from  the  cattle-shed  to  the  water- 
tank.  Timber  'has  to  be  felled  to  stave  the  foaming,  angry 
watercourse.  Sick  cattle  have  to  be  treated  with  physic 
and  poultices  ;  the  calving  cow,  the  heifer  that  has  broken 
its  leg  by  an  nnlucky  slip,  have  to  be  attended ;  the  wild 


THE   MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  217 

goats  have  to  be  kept  from  straying  too  far ;  and  besides 
all  this,  her  daily  round  of  heavy  work  in  the  hut,  milk- 
ing twice  a  day  some  twenty  head  of  cattle,  churning,  and 
making  cheese,  cleaning  the  shed,  and  keeping  her  milk- 
pails,  boiler,  and  churning-machine  scrupulously  clean. 

And  what  does  she  get  for  all  this,  — for  six  months  of 
the  roughest  work,  and  privations  of  all  kinds,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  the  winter,  with  the  various  household  duties  in 
the  peasant's  home  in  the  village  ?  Why,  two  pounds  in 
money,  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  two  hempen  skirts  of  the 
coarsest  texture,  per  annum  ! 

And  yet  a  happier  young  lassie,  more  brim-full  of  spirit 
and  love  for  nature,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  out  of 
Tvrol.  The  day  —  along  day  too — from  three  or  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  till  long  after  sundown,  is  one 
round  of  work ;  the  evening  passes  quickly,  spent  either 
before  her  open  fire  on  the  primitive  hearth,  or  sitting  in 
front  of  her  chalet,  watching  the  last  pink  tinges  dying 
out  on  the  snow-peaked  old  friends  that  start  up  on  all 
sides  in  gallant  array,  or  singing  some  of  her  favorite 
"  Schnaddahiipfler  "  songs  ;  and  by  half-past  eight  or  nine 
she  is  in  her  hay  berth. 

She  knows  not  what  fear  is  ;  and  if  perchance  in  the 
dead  hours  of  the  night  a  sudden  commotion  in  the  cow- 
shed will  awaken  her  from  her  sound  slumber,  she  will 
fearlessly  step  out  into  the  darkness,  and  find  her  way 
to  the  adjoining  shed,  and  allay  the  playful  or  maybe 
vicious  liveliness  of  her  kine  by  her  word,  or  by  the  help 
of  a  stout  cudgel. 

Can  we  grudge  her  —  the  victim  of  so  many  lonesome 
hours  —  the  happy  moments  si)cnt  at  the  side  of  her  stal- 
wart lover?  or  can  we,  considering  all  we  have  said, 
blame  her,  when,  forgotten  and  apparently  forsaken  by 
the  rest  of  the  world,  the  friendless  maiden  goes  one  step 
—  a  short  step,  in  her  eyes  —  farther  than  the  codes  of 
civilization,  than  the  laws  of  society,  permit? 

I  say  no,  decidedly  no  ;  for,  reader,  remember  before 
you  condemn  her,  that  from  her  earliest  youth  no  guiding 
hand,  no  tuition,  except  the  primitive  instruction  of  the 


2iS    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PKIMITIl'E  PEOPLE. 

village  schoolmaster  as  he  drummed  into  her  head  suffi- 
cient to  write  her  name,  was  extended  to  her.  And,  more, 
the  law  itself,  by  raising  nigh  insurmountable  obstacles  in 
the  path  of  the  poor  desirous  of  marrying,  lends  its  right 
hand  in  bringing  about  the  deplorable  state  of  things  to 
which  I  allude. 

Pretty  Kati  was  no  exception  to  the  rule  :  poor  as  a 
church  mouse,  her  fortune  was  not  worse  than  that  of  her 
lover.  She  knev*^  that  there  was  no  hope  of  their  being 
able  to  marry  for  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ahead,  for  as  yet 
our  friend  had  a  long  seven-years  soldiering  before  him  : 
so,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  she  trusted  and  loved. 

But  let  us,  before  we  leave  this  quiet  retreat,  and  rid 
the  young  couple  of  our  presence,  cast  a  passing  glance 
at  the  interior  of  her  bower,  poor  and  primitive  as  it  is. 
There,  in  one  corner,  is  her  berth  filled  with  hay,  —  bed 
we  hardly  can  call  the  box-like  inclosure,  and  one  thick 
blanket  for  a  cover.  Underneath  or  rather  beside  it,  are 
ranged  on  a  shelf  half  a  dozen  bottles.  They  contain  her 
ready  remedies  for  sudden  sickness  or  accidents  among 
her  dumb  charges.  Beside  them,  nailed  to  the  wall,  is  a 
crucifix,  surrounded  by  a  wreath  of  freshly-picked  rho- 
dodendrons, edelweiss,  and  the  azure-tinted  gentians  of 
the  Alps.  On  a  peg  below  it  hangs  her  hat  of  green  felt, 
worn  and  stained.  Stuck  in  it  coquettishly  is  a  single 
feather  of  the  blackcock.  How  prettily  it  sits  the  well- 
shapen  head  with  its  wealth  of  auburn  tresses  !  Jauntily 
set  on  one  side,  it  admirably  suits  her  air  of  half-modest, 
half-daring  grace.  It's  her  Sunday  hat,  too,  —  a  hat  that 
has  served  as  best  for  two  years,  and  perforce  must  last 
a  third,  for  on  work-days  she  can  not  afford  that  indul- 
gence ;  a  handkerchief  tied  under  her  chin  does  just  as 
well,  and  saves  a  lot.  On  the  foot-board  of  her  couch  is 
fastened  a  tiny  looking-glass,  not  more  than  two  inches 
square ;  it  is  the  only  one  luxury  of  civilized  life  we  per- 
ceive in  the  hut.  Beside  it  are  a  comb,  kept  perfectly 
clean,  and  a  bit  of  soap  —  her  Sunday  soap  —  for  on 
week-days  she  makes  a  few  handfuls  of  wood-ashes  do  in 
its  stead.     A  rosary  and  a  much-worn  old  prayer-book  — 


77/-T  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  219 

not  to  forget  the  huge  peasant's  ahnanac  with  its  red  and 
black  hieroglyphics- —  are  all  that  remain  to  be  mentioned. 
The  deal  box,  very  like  a  seaman's  sea-chest,  containing 
her  Sunday  gown,  the  silver  string  of  beads  (the  sole  re- 
membrance of  her  mother) ,  and  the  ring  with  a  gaudy  glass 
jewel  in  it,  the  gift  of  her  lover,  not  to  omit  a  change  of 
linen,  viz.,  a  shirt,  is  stored  in  her  underground  milk  cel- 
lar ;  the  only  receptacle  that  can  be  locked,  not  so  mucli 
on  account  of  thieves,  but  on  that  of  the  goats,  who  will 
stray  into  the  hut  in  expectancy  of  their  wonted  handful 
of  salt.  The  fireplace,  sunk  lower  than  the  floor,  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  trench ;  here  one  places  one's  feet,  while 
the  floor  itself  is  the  seat.  The  huge  copper  caldron,  so 
necessary  for  cheesemaking,  its  outside  crusted  with  soot, 
the  inside  bright  as  a  mirror,  hangs  on  a  crane-like  ma- 
chine, enabling  it  to  be  swung  round  when  not  used. 

The  low  door,  provided  with  a  wicket,  gives  ingress 
into  the  cowshed,  where  are  ranged  into  two  rows  her 
charges.  Each  one  has  its  name,  and  answers  to  it :  the 
bell  cow,  however,  being  the  queen  over  all.  Adorned 
with  the  largest  bell,  she  leads  the  long  file,  and  is  as 
proud  and  jealous  of  her  position  as  any  human  being 
could  be.  When  a  cow  strays  from  the  herd,  and  the 
Alp-girl  sets  out  on  a  wearisome  search,  she  accompanies 
her,  bellowing  from  time  to  time  to  recall  the  lost  one. 

Such  is  the  empire  over  which  this  lonesome  queen 
exercises  unlimited  control. 

Dusk  is  beginning  to  set  in  as  we  bid  good-bye  to  the 
young  people,  and  turn  our  back  upon  the  quiet  litde 
dwelling,  the  harbor  of  two  hearts  beating  high  and  fast 
in  all  the  joy  and  fire  of  ardent  passion,  such  as  only  is 
the  gift  of  uncontaminated  natural  youth. 

Three  long  months  will  the  lassie  still  have  to  endure 
on  high  till  Rosenkranz  Sunday,  the  day  when  they  all  re- 
turn from  their  Alpine  pasturages,  comes  round.  I  say 
endure  ;  for  while  ibrmerly  she  loved  her  summer  abode 
above  any  thing,  and  delighted  in  the  free  life  amid  her 
mountains  and  kine,  she  now  somehow  begins  to  envy 
her  more  fortunate  companions  who  all  the  year  round 


2  20    GADDINGS  IVIT/I  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

remain  in  the  village  near  their  sweethearts  and  their 
friends.  A  pang  of  jealous  fear  crosses  her  mind  as  she 
pictures  to  herself  her  handsome  lover,  the  best  wrest- 
ler, the  keenest  shot  of  the  village,  exposed  to  the  allure- 
ments of  some  dangerous  and  unscrupulous  rival  beauty. 
Not  all,  as  she  well  knows,  are  as  loyal-hearted  as  she  ; 
and  many  a  mountain  belle  holds  court  in  her  upland 
dominion,  not  only  to  one,  but  to  half  a  dozen  ardent 
swains.  Her  favors  are  contested  for  in  sanguinary 
fights ;  for  the  passions  of  the  mettlesome  youths  once 
roused,  their  hatred  is  as  fierce  as  that  of  Red  Indians, 
lii  some  parts  of  the  Alps,  in  fact,  the  knife  is,  on  such 
occasions,  only  too  often  called  in  requisition.  Wielded 
by  hands  as  strong  as  they  are  ill-intentioned,  it  generally 
leaves  one  or  the  other  of  the  combatants  a  bleeding 
corpse  on  the  ground. 

At  last  Rosary  Sunday  —  the  i6th  after  Trinity  — 
comes  round.  The  preceding  day  the  two  burly  sons  of 
her  master,  and  the  old  "  knecht,"  go  up  to  the  Alp,  and 
help  the  lass  to  bring  down  her  traps.  One  of  them  v/ill 
carry  the  huge  caldron,  filled  with  milk-pails,  and  pots, 
and  pans,  tied  on  a  "  Kraksen,"  upon  his  broad  back,  the 
other  two  dividing  the  rest  of  the  lumbersome  domestic 
paraphernalia  between  them.  They  go  first ;  then  come 
the  cattle  with  their  heavy  bells  on  broad  leather  straps 
adorned  with  embroidery,  and  each  animal  sporting  a 
\\Teath  of  fresh  Alpine  flowers  wound  round  its  horns, 
trooping  in  stately  array  to  the  lead  of  the  bell-cow,  who 
Avalks  in  dignified  solitude  at  the  head  of  the  file.  The 
wreath  that  adorns  her  is  larger  than  the  rest,  and  its 
flowers  are  the  best  and  brightest  that  the  lass  could  fiiid. 

Behind  the  last  calf,  jogging  along  at  a  half-trot,  comes 
the  girl,  decked  out  in  her  Sunday  finery,  her  hat  for  this 
occasion  being  adorned  with  a  bunch  of  edelweiss  and 
gentians,  for,  alas  !  the  bright  rhododendrons,  her  favor- 
ites, are  long  faded.  At  her  heels  again  trips  the  wayward 
little  flock  of  goats,  bucking  and  scampering  about  in 
gleeful  ignorance  of  the  dark  months  that  are  to  follow, 
of  the  close  confinement  in  their  shed  through  the  long 
and  dreary  Avinter. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  221 

The  weather  is  fine,  —  one  of  those  glorious  autumn 
days  that  make  one's  heart  bound  in  vigor,  called  forth 
by  the  keen  and  yet  balmy  air  on  high.  Every  thing 
around  us  seems  full  of  life  and  enjoyment :  the  bells  of 
different  tone  keep  up  a  constant  though  not  unmclodi- 
ous  chime,  while  from  the  vanguard,  who  are  already  far 
ahead,  consecutive  peals  of  merry  jodlers  reach  our  ears, 
answered  by  the  silvery  voice  of  the  lass,  who  before 
she  turns  the  last  corner,  shutting  out  from  her  view  her 
now  deserted  little  creel,  sends  forth  a  last  farewell,  so 
plaintive  and  yet  so  joyful  of  cadence,  that  involuntarily 
we  halt  to  hear  the  last  note  die  away ;  a  tear  glistens 
in  her  eye  as  the  next  step  takes  her  out  of  sight  of  the 
spot  where  withal  she  has  spent  the  happiest  hours  of 
her  young  life.  She  has  not  gone  far  when  the  bushes 
suddenly  part,  and  from  his  ambush  leaps  her  lover. 
Poor  fellow,  he  has  sacrificed  a  whole  day's  earnings  to 
be  able  to  walk  with  her  for  a  few  hours ;  for  long  before 
they  reach  the  village  he  has  to  disappear  again,  lest  a 
chance  passer-by  should  see  him,  and  some  stinging  sar- 
casm greet  his  ears  when  next  he  steps  into  the  inn  or 
meets  any  of  his  boon  companions. 

Oft  have  I  watched  couples  in  similar  plight  tread  side 
by  side  hardly  perceptible  paths,  and  it  has  always  struck 
me  that  at  no  time  do  the  specific  lineaments  of  the  race 
come  to  the  front  as  much  as  just  then.  The  man  carries 
himself  high ;  and  the  eyes,  that  to  the  casual  observer 
seem  usually  perhaps  a  trifle  too  lifeless,  light  up,  and  an 
expression  of  bold  defiance  permeates  the  face.  The 
woman,  too,  shows  features  of  her  own.  No  false  shame 
or  vapid  sentimentality  is  portrayed  on  her  face  :  she 
looks  wliat  she  is,  a  fearless  woman,  who  well  knows,  if 
occasion  requires,  how  to  thrust  back  the  advances  of  a 
man  whose  character  she  does  not  trust. 

Long  before  the  flock  reaches  the  first  outlying  houses, 
the  bells  of  numbers  of  other  herds,  all  returning  from 
their  summer  pasturages  in  the  same  gay  array,  are  heard, 
all  joining  in  one  continued  chime. 

I'hc  whole  village  has  turned  out  to  v/atch,  with  critical 


22  2     GADDING S  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

eye,  the  different  flocks  all  converging  to  the  one  center. 
Opinions  vary ;  and  half-angry  discussions  between  the 
richer  peasants  —  each  eager  to  be  the  owner  of  the  fine:;t 
cattle  —  are  heard  in  the  momentary  pauses  in  the  gen- 
eral uproar  and  din. 

By  the  next  morning  the  excitement  of  the  rural  crowd 
has  cooled  down,  and  the  eight-o'clock  service  unites  the 
populace,  filling  the  church  with  nigh  double  the  number 
that  formed  the  congregation  throughout  the  summer. 

In  a  corner  of  the  edifice,  in  front  of  the  altar  devoted 
to  her  patron  saint,  kneels  pretty  "  Kati,"  praying  in  the 
full  gratitude  of  her  heart ;  for  has  she  not  every  cause 
to  be  grateful  ?  Not  one  cow  has  she  lost  by  sickness 
or  accident.  Did  not  the  sleek  condition  of  each  beast 
redound  to  her  praise?  Had  she  not  found  a  true- 
hearted  lover?  Was  she  not  loudly  praised  by  her  mas- 
ter? But  where  is  he,  the  object  of  her  thoughts,  and 
maybe  prayer,  all  this  time  ?  Ah  !  in  yonder  corner, 
leaning  against  a  pillar,  lost  in  thought  evidently  of  not 
the  most  agreeable  kind.  There  she  is  quite  close  to  him  ; 
and  yet  he  dare  not  be  seen  at  her  side,  lest  people  should 
be  set  talking,  and  he  be  made  the  butt  for  their  caustic 
quizzing.  He  is  no  coward,  no  !  for  he  would  face  any 
danger  unflinchingly ;  but  the  chaff  of  his  companions, 
that  is  something  beyond  what  he  can  endure.  It  seems 
a  hard,  a  very  hard  struggle  he  is  fighting  with  himself. 
He  knows  hov/  pleased  would  be  "  Kati "  if  she  were  to 
walk  out  of  church  across  the  open  gi-een,  through  the 
throng  of  chattering  neighbors,  with  him  at  her  side  as 
her  acknowledged  lover ;  but  the  man  who  fears  no  foe, 
who  risks  his  life  in  deadly  combat  with  the  revengeful 
keepers  thirsting  for  his  blood,  trembles  and  turns  hot  at 
the  thought  that  he  would  be  making  a  fool  of  himself  in 
the  eyes  of  his  devil-may-care  loose-tongued  associates. 
At  last  he  seems  to  have  arrived  at  some  determination  : 
his  mind  is  made  up  one  way  or  the  other,  for  his  brow 
is  knit,  and  his  hand  clinched.  He  steps  forth,  and  walks 
up  to  where  his  girl  is  still  kneeling.  A  touch  on  her 
shoulder,  and  the  short  word  "come,"  is  all;  but  as  she 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  2?.^ 

rises  and  silently  places  herself  at  his  side,  she  knows 
what  is  meant.  A  happy  smile  steals  over  her  face,  and 
she  glances  up  to  her  lover  with  a  glistening  eye.  Fie 
does  not  see  it,  for  his  head  is  bent,  and  his  long  stride 
does  not  halt. 

As  they  pass  under  the  old  porch,  out  into  the  sunny 
world,  his  manner  suddenly  changes  :  his  head  is  erect, 
his  face  set,  but  not  in  anger,  his  eyes  sparkle,  and  his 
whole  bearing  is  proud  and  defiant.  His  arm  steals  round 
her  waist,  and  thus  they  meet  the  gaze  of  their  neighbors. 
Sterling  nature  has  vanquished. 

Where  the  girl  is  under  the  protecting  influences  of 
home,  the  love-making  proceeds  in  different  fasliion.  In 
order  to  give  the  reader  a  faithful  picture  of  the  period  of 
engagement,  we  will  follow  the  steps  of  f.iir  young  Gretl, 
one  of  the  Unterinnthal  peasantry,  as  she  returns  home 
from  church  on  a  fine  Sunday  morning,  and,  after  care- 
fully laying  aside  her  Sunday  finery  —  her  silver  chain 
necklace,  her  bright  blue  kerchief,  and  her  gold-tasseled 
hat,  —  stealthily  leaves  her  chamber,  and  gains  the  adjoin- 
mg  granary,  where  in  a  few  minutes  she  is  joined  by  her 
lover,  bright-eyed  Hansel. 

The  two  have  made  it  all  right  between  them ;  for  only 
the  week  before,  at  the  wedding  of  a  mutual  friend,  Han- 
sel took  advantage  of  a  quiet  five  minutes  to  assure  him- 
self that  his  courtship  was  welcome  to  the  object  of  his 
desires.  They  are  now  consulting  about  the  next  step, 
asking  the  permission  of  Gretl's  mother  to  visit  the  house 
for  the  Hoamgart,  i.e.,  to  chat.  They  are  not  long  about 
it ;  for  presently  they  part.  Hansel  to  leave  the  granar\% 
and  put  in  his  appearance  at  the  front  door,  and  Gretl  to 
regain  her  chamber. 

Five  minutes  later  we  see  Gretl  opening  the  house- 
door,  and  giving  Hansel  a  short,  formal  welcome,  for  she 
knows  her  mother  is  in  the  kitchen  close  by,  and  has 
sharp  ears. 

"  Mother  !  "  she  presently  cries,  "  Mother  !  let  me  tell 
you  that  Hansel  is  outside." 

"Who  wants  him?  I  did  not  call  him,"  replies  the 
sharp-tongued  mother. 


2  24    GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

"  Oh,  come,  mother  !  don't  let  him  stand  waiting  out 
there,"  pleads  the  daughter  from  under  the  house-door, 
while  she  gives  Hansel  a  sly  wink. 

"  I  did  not  call  him,  nor  did  I  lix  him  to  the  spot  by 
a  spell  {Fcstl?aii!ic!i)  :  for  my  sake  he  need  not  be  loun- 
ging about,"  replies  the  suspicious  dame. 

"  Do  come  out,  mother,  and  talk  to  him,"  cries  the 
daughter. 

"  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  him  :  you  talk  to  him  out 
there ;  I  have  something  better  to  do  :  "  and,  as  if  to 
confirm  her  words,  she  begins  to  scrape  and  clatter  with 
her  iron  frying-pans. 

"  Now,  don't  be  uncivil,  mother,  he  is  such  a  well- 
spoken  fellow.     Do  come  out,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  You  tiresome  wench,  come  in,  then,  and  stir  the  pan- 
cakes, while  I  talk  to  him,"  ejaculates  the  parent.  And 
so  she  does  talk  to  bright-eyed  Hansel ;  and  the  upshot 
of  the  conversation  is,  that  Hansel  is  invited  to  enter  the 
house,  and  take  a  seat  in  the  family  room,  where  he  is 
joined  by  happy  Gretl. 

My  reader  will  ask.  But  why  so  much  fuss  about  noth- 
ing? But  it  is  by  no  means  nothing;  for  Hansel,  by 
soliciting  the  permission  to  pay  a  visit,  has  virtually  asked 
for  fair  Gretl's  hand,  and,  by  granting  the  wished-for  leave, 
the  mother  has  evinced  her  approbation.  The  happy 
lover  may  now  come  as  often  as  he  likes  to  pay  open 
court  to  Gretl.  There  is  an  odd  custom  in  connection 
with  this  important  step ;  for,  the  very  first  time  he  pays 
a  visit  as  avowed  lover,  he  brings  with  him  a  bottle  of 
wine,  of  which  he  pours  out  a  glass,  and  presents  it  to 
the  object  of  his  desires.  If  she  accepts  of  it,  the  whole 
affair  is  settled.  Very  often  the  girl  has  not  yet  made  up 
her  mind ;  and  then  she  will  take  refuge  in  excuses,  so  as 
not  to  drink  of  the  wine,  and  yet  not  refuse  it  point- 
blank,  for  that  is  considered  a  gross  insult,  proving  that 
she  has  been  merely  trifling  with  the  affections  of  her 
lover.  She  will,  for  instance,  maintain  that  the  wine 
"  looks  sour,"  or  that  wine  disagrees  with  her,  or  tliat  she 
is  afraid  of  getting  tipsy,  or  that  the  priest  has  forbidden 


rJIE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  225 

her  to  take  any ;  in  fact,  she  makes  use  of  any  subterfuge 
that  presents  itself  at  that  moment.  The  purport  of 
these  excuses  is,  that  she  has  not  yet  come  to  a  decision, 
and  that  tlie  wine  offering  is  premature. 

This  strange  custom,  dating  very  far  back,^  is  called 
"  bringing  the  wine,"  and  is,  as  I  have  heard,  synony- 
mous with  the  act  of  proposing.  Shy  lovers,  loth  to 
make  sure  of  their  case  beforehand,  find  it,  as  we  may 
suppose,  a  very  happy  institution.  Not  a  word  need  be 
spoken,  and  the  girl  is  spared  the  painful  "  no  "  of  civ- 
ilization. If  any  of  the  wine  is  spilt,  or  tlie  glass  or 
bottle  is  broken,  it  is  considered  a  most  unhappy  omen  : 
in  fact,  there  is  a  peasant's  saying  for  an  unhappy  mar- 
riage, "They  have  spilt  the  wine  between  them." 

For  Hansel's  happiness  and  peace  of  mind,  we  will  as- 
sume that  his  wine  was  not  found  sour,  but,  on  the  con- 
\X2sy,  was  relished  by  fair  Gretl.  The  wedding  is  arranged 
to  take  place  some  months  hence,  "  when  the  hay  has 
been  brought  in,  and  the  fields  set  with  the  autumnal 
crop,"  as  the  careful  old  housewife  remarks.  About  a 
fortnight  before  the  wedding,  bride  and  bridegroom  un- 
dertake the  usual  pilgrimage  to  some  sacred  shrine,  to 
cleanse  their  souls  from -"  bachelor  "  sins,  as  the  saying 
naively  terms  those  delinquencies  that  are  committed  by 
unmarried  adults. 

Maria  Stein,  near  Worgl,  is  a  favorite  place  of  pilgrim- 
age on  those  occasions.  Let  us  metamorphose  ourselves 
into  the  shadows  of  Hansel  and  Gretl,  as  at  daybreak,  on 
a  fine  September  day,  they  set  out  on  their  pious  errand. 

They  have  a  long  walk  before  them,  a  reason  on  ac- 
count of  which  they  chose  Maria  Stein,  for  the  longer  the 
pilgrimage  the  more  efficacious  is  the  excursion  supposed 
to  be.  They  watch  for  roadside  chapels,  A'otive  tablets, 
or  sacred  pictures,  for  it  is  part  of  a  pilgrim's  duty  to  pray 
a  certain  number  of  prayers  at  every  one  of  these  sacred 
symbols.     If  it  be  a  cliapcl,  they  enter  it  and  kneel  down, 

'  In  not  n  few  of  the  Minnclnys  of  OswaW  WoIIccnstcin,  M'althcr  von  dcr 
V'ogclwcide,  we  find  this  custom  mentioned.  According  to  one  account,  it  was 
known  as  cirly  as  the  ninth  centuiy. 


2  26    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

he  on  the  right  side,  she  on  the  left  of  the  diminutive 
chancel.  If  it  be  but  a  votive  tablet,  or  sacred  picture  of 
the  Virgin,  fastened  to  a  tree  or  to  a  simple  cross,  they 
merely  stand  in  front  of  it,  rosary  in  hand,  and  pray  half 
a  dozen  prayers  for  the  salvation  of  the  soul  of  him  whose 
dire  fate  the  inscription  laments. 

It  is  a  pretty  sight  to  see  them  standing  side  by  side, 
l)oth  attired  in  their  picturesque  national  costumes,  framed 
in  by  the  somber  branches  of  the  gaunt  pine-trees.  Pres- 
ently they  bring  their  devotion  to  a  close ;  and,  after 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  they  turn  away,  and  the 
next  minute  the  youthful  couple  are  deeply  engaged  in  a 
very  worldly  conversation. 

At  midday  they  reach  the  first  outworks  of  the  sacred 
shrine,  the  goal  of  their  pilgrimage. 

It  is  a  tiny  chapel,  and  just  as  they  are  about  to  enter 
it  we  hear  a  silvery  little  bell  being  tolled  in  the  miniature 
spire. 

"It  is  St.  Anthony's  bell,"  remarks  Gred. 

"  I  wonder  who  is  ringing  it,  and  what  he  has  lost," 
responds  Hansel. 

St.  Anthony  is  a  saint  whose  powers  to  return  lost 
articles  to  their  owner  are  supposed  to  be  unlimited.  If 
a  cow  strays,  if  a  calf  is  lost  on  the  mountain  slopes,  if  an 
economic  housewife  loses  her  chickens  or  her  goat,  St. 
Anthony's  bell  is  forthwith  set  going.  But  what  can  the 
wizened  old  woman  have  lost,  who,  as  we  enter  the  chapel, 
stops  tugging  at  the  bell-rope,  which  is  hanging  at  the  side 
of  the  porch,  and  looks  at  us  with  anxious  expectation  in 
her  face  ?  \Ve  think  to  ourselves  that  probably  the  old 
lady  has,  by  our  appearance,  detected  tlie  town-bred  hea- 
thens who  would  deride  her  did  they  know  that  she  was 
calling  upon  St.  Anthony  to  find  her  lost  spectacles  or 
the  prized  snuff-box  she  has  mislaid. 

Alas  !  we  are  mistaken,  for  we  learn  presently  that  the 
old  woman  is  half-witted,  and  daily  rings  the  bell  till  her 
arms  drop.  And  for  whom  and  for  what  does  she  ring? 
we  ask.  For  her  only  son,  a  curly-headed  young  fellow, 
who  left  his  home  one  day  some  ten  years  ago  to  pursue 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  227 

the  fleet  chamois,  and  never  returned.  The  fell  bullet  of 
the  keeper,  that  overtook  the  daring  young  poacher, 
wrecked  also  the  fond  mother's  life.  Since  that  day  she 
is  what  we  see  her  now,  —  the  ruin  of  her  former  self. 
Of  all  the  numberless  hands  that  tugged  at  the  worn  old 
rope,  there  were  probably  none  but  hers  that  pulled  the 
death-knell  of  two  lives. 

The  rope  is  yet  swinging  to  and  fro  when  our  friend, 
fair  Gretl,  passing  it  within  reach,  thoughtless  of  harm, 
gives  it  a  violent  tug,  to  which  the  bell  over  our  head 
responds  with  a  stroke  or  two. 

Hansel,  who  has  been  brought  up  a  "good  "  Catholic, 
turns  round,  and  with  an  expression  of  wonder  depicted 
on  his  face,  asks  her  why  she  rang. 

"You  know  it's  wicked  to  pull  at  that  bell  if  you 
haven't  lost  any  thing.  And  to-day,  of  all  days,  you 
ought  not  to  have  done  so,"  says  honest  Hansel,  full  of 
reproach. 

"  And  pray,  how  do  you  know  that  I  have  not  lost  any 
thing?  "  replies  Gred,  with  eyes  brim-full  of  sparkling  fun, 
for  she  is  the  smarter  of  the  two,  and  is  not  going  to  let 
a  petty  quarrel  darken  the  festive  day. 

A  pause  of  a  second  or  two,  and  Hansel,  dull  of  com- 
prehension, also  sees  the  point, 

"  Did  she  want  to  have  her  heart  back?" 

"  No  \  a  thousand  times  no,"  she  muses  to  herself, 
while  Hansel  clinches  her  hand  tighter  in  his,  as  they 
walk  up  the  aisle  towards  the  altar. 

The  young  people  are  alone  in  the  quaint  little  chapel. 
A  few  short  jjrayers,  and  they  rise  to  continue  their  pil- 
grimage. Maria  Stein,  their  goal,  is  soon  reached,  and 
they  trudge  up  the  crazy  old  stairs  that  lead  to  the  chapel 
containing  the  miracle-working  picture  of  the  Virgin. 
The  stairs  are  lined  with  old  votive  tablets,  some  of  which 
are  of  anti([uarian  interest,  for  they  date  back  to  the  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  centuries. 

Let  us  read  one  of  the  quaint  inscriptions,  in  old  Ger- 
man characters.  The  one  we  choose  is  of  the  year  161 7, 
and  informs  us  "  that  in  that  year  the  honorable  and  sage 


228    GAnniiVGS  WITH  A   rRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Hanns  Jacob  Schwalher,  Justice  of  the  Peace  in  Ratten- 
berg,  was  attacked  by  a  fearful  pain  in  the  inside  of  his 
body,  whereat  he  thought  he  must  burst.  While  suffering 
thus  terribly  he  vowed,  in  case  he  recovered,  to  make  a 
pilgrimage,  with  his  wife,  to  Maria  Stein.  After  making 
this  vow  he  soon  got  better.  On  the  i  yth  October,  he 
and  his  wife  performed  the  pilgrimage." 

Our  pious  young  couple,  while  ascending  the  stairs, 
glance  over  the  row  of  veteran  votive  tablets ;  but  their 
effort  to  decipher  the  quaint  old-fashioned  characters  is 
not  crowned  with  success.  Before  they  enter  the  church, 
they  inform  the  white-headed  old  verger  that  they  want 
to  confess,  and  beg  him  to  inform  the  priest  of  their 
presence. 

While  waiting  for  the  holy  man,  they  inspect  the  inte- 
rior of  the  church.  Countless  votive  tablets,  the  work  of 
generations  upon  generations  of  rural  schoolmasters,  cover 
the  wall. 

The  allegorical  pictures,  in  the  worst  style  of  the  Rococo 
age,  that  decorate  the  arched  ceiling,  next  attract  their 
attention ;  but  it  requires  trained  eyes  to  make  head  or 
tail  of  the  motley  collection  of  ill-shapen  bodies,  hideous 
faces,  and  limbs  out  of  all  proportion. 

At  this  moment  the  priest  enters  the  church  through  a 
side  door,  and,  bending  his  knee  as  he  passes  the  altar, 
walks  straight  towards  one  of  the  confessionals.  The 
wicket  closes  on  him  as  he  disappears  in  the  center  parti- 
tion ;  and  the  two  lovers  kneel  down,  one  at  each  side, 
but  so  that  the  whispered  confession  of  the  one  remains 
inaudible  to  the  other. 

It  would  be  indiscreet,  were  we  to  endeavor  to  pene- 
trate the  veil  of  secrecy  that  shrouds  the  words  whispered 
into  the  priestly  ear.  Let  it  suffice  to  know  that  confes- 
sion took  up  the  best  part  of  an  hour. 

Absolution  granted,  our  young  friends  leave,  and  retire 
to  separate  nooks  in  dark  corners  of  the  church,  and 
there  pray  for  some  time. 

This  brings  their  pilgrimage,  in  so  far  as  it  concerns  the 
Church,  to  an  end ;  for  now  they  can  eat  and  drink  at 


THE  MOUNTAIN  BELLE.  229 

the   adjacent  inn  with  the  zest  resulting  from  the   con- 
sciousness of  possessing  "  cleansed  souls." 

Our  lover  friends  are  not  slow  to  restore  their  exhausted 
frames  by  a  very  hearty  meal,  partaken  of  in  the  large, 
stately  hostelry  which  evidently  has  seen  better  days  of 
"  piety  and  jollity."  We  greet  its  appearance  with  pleas- 
ure, for  does  not  the  \ei-y  look  of  dejected  emptiness 
stamped  upon  it  prove  the  decrease  of  superstitious  big- 
otry among  the  populace  ?  \Miere  formerly  scores  upon 
scores  of  weary  pilgrims  sought  nightly  shelter,  a  whole 
week  passes  now  without  bringing  more  than  a  couple 
of  dozen. 


230    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  peasant's  wedding. 

CARNIVAL,  in  most  Continental  countries  a  period  of 
general  festivity,  is  distinguished  in  the  secluded 
Alpine  valleys  of  Tyrol  solely  by  the  circumstance  that 
weddings  arranged  in  the  course  of  the  preceding  year 
are,  if  it  be  possible,  celebrated  in  that  period. 

Now,  carnival  is  in  winter,  and  winter  in  Tyrol  is  a 
season  specially  adapted  for  the  observance  of  quaint 
old-tashioncd  customs,  hallowed  by  the  use  of  centuries. 
These  striking  mementos  of  a  past  age  specially  charac- 
terize a  rural  peasant's  wedding ;  and  it  is  in  order  to 
introduce  my  reader  to  one  of  these  merry-makings  that 
1  have  to  request  him  to  follow  me,  on  a  bright  but  un- 
commonly cold  February  day  in  1875,  to  the  village  of 
Brandenberg,  a  little  Alpine  hamlet  in  the  valley  of  the 
same  name. 

Though  exceedingly  heavy  falls  of  snow  had  made  the 
narrow  bridle-path  leading  from  the  broad  Inn  valley  to 
Brandenberg  almost  impassable,  I  had  faithfully  prom- 
ised to  so  many  of  the  frugal  inhabitants  of  that  vale  to 
honor  the  wedding  of  a  charming  young  peasant-girl 
with  a  special  protege  of  mine,  that  I  was  determined  to 
surmount  all  dif^culties,  and  prove  myself  a  man  of  my 
word. 

Where  in  summer  it  would  ha\-e  required  but  a  two- 
hours'  walk  to  reach  my  goal,  now,  in  the  depth  of  win- 
ter, it  was  a  seven-hours'  battle  with  snow  that  covered 
the  ground  to  a  depth  of  three  and  in  many  places  of 
four  and  five  feet,  before  I  found  myself  in  the  roomy  inn 


A   PEASANT'S    WEDDTNG.  2.^1 


of  the  village.  Countless  outstretched  hands,  brawny  and 
muscular,  small  and  plump,  clean  and  dirty,  were  imme- 
diately offered  to  greet  me.  As  it  was  Sunday,  and  the 
eve  of  the  wedding-day,  the  "  Gaststube,"  or  bar-room, 
was  crowded  with  Brandenbergers,  young  and  old,  fair 
and  ugly.  My  arrival,  and  a  few  minutes'  conversation 
with  my  old  patron,  the  "  Herr  Vicar,"  in  which  I  sought 
his  permission  for  a  few  hours'  dancing  (it  is  usually  not 
the  custom  to  dance  on  the  eve  of  a  wedding-day) ,  very 
soon  put  the  musicians  into  requisition.  A  couple  of 
florins  (about  four  shillings)  for  the  evening's  music 
brought  a  broad  grin  of  satisfaction  on  the  honest  faces 
of  the  three  '"  Musiker,"  —  a  flute,  a  trombone,  and  a 
guitar. 

Repairing  to  the  dancing-chamber,  a  narrow  room 
about  thirty-five  feet  in  length,  I  was  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  young  fellows,  offering  me,  as  a 
mark  of  courtesy,  their  bright-eyed  lasses.  Choice  was 
not  dif^cult ;  and  the  next  minute  I  was  dancing  the  ^^ pas 
seal,"  that  is,  one  dance  round  the  room,  while  the  other 
couples  line  the  wall,  and  fall  in  at  its  termination. 

The  striking  character  of  the  national  dances  of  the 
Tyrolese  calls  for  a  few  w^ords  of  description. 

In  Brandenberg,  and  in  some  other  valleys,  the  male 
dancer  encircles  the  waist  of  his  partner  with  both  arms, 
while  she,  standing  up  as  closely  as  possible,  embraces 
him  with  both  arms  round  his  neck.  A  peculiar  and  un- 
graceful shuffling  motion  is  the  necessarj'  result,  and  were 
it  not  for  the  frequent  intervals  of  separate  dancing,  the 
dance  would  be  ungainly  in  the  extreme. 

For  the  first  minutes  of  every  dance  the  motion  of  the 
whole  group  is  slow,  and  the  floor  trembles  beneath  the 
heavy  tramp  of  the  strapping  fellows  with  immensely 
heavy  ironshod  shoes. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  music  changes,  and  the  whole 
aspect  of  the  room  is  changed  with  it. 

The  man,  letting  go  his  partner,  commences  a  series 
of  capers  and  jumps,  and  gymnastic  evolutions,  display- 
ing an  agility  very  remarkable,  and  quite  unlooked  for  in 
their  heavy,  solidly-knit  frames. 


232     GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRLMiriVE   PEOPLE. 

Various  as  these  movements  are,  I  will  endeavor  to 
describe  the  most  striking.  One  of  the  commonest  is  to 
throw  one's  self  on  one's  knees,  fold  both  arms  over  the 
chest,  and  bend  back  till  the  back  of  the  head,  touching 
the  floor,  gives  a  few  sounding  raps  on  the  hard  boards, 
and  then,  with  one  powerful  jerk,  without  touching  the 
floor  with  the  hands,  to  regain  one's  erect  position. 

In  another,  the  man  kneels  down,  and  with  his  bare 
knees  beats  a  sounding  rat-ta-ta-ta  on  the  floor,  and  then 
with  one  agile  bound  he  has  regained  his  feet. 

I  have  tried  innumerable  times  to  imitate  some  of 
these  figures ;  but,  although  I  am  a  fair  gymnast,  I  sel- 
dom succeed  with  any  but  the  easiest. 

To  touch  the  floor  with  the  back  of  the  head  only,  with 
arms  folded  over  the  chest,  and  the  knees  resting  on  the 
ground,  is  a  feat  which  many  an  athlete  of  repute  could 
not  imitate  save  by  long  practice. 

To  jump  high  up  in  the  air,  and  come  down  upon  the 
knees  with  the  full  force,  is  very  common. 

All  these  capers,  jumps,  and  evolutions  are  accom- 
panied by  loud  shrill  whistling  and  peculiar  smacking 
sounds  of  the  lips  and  tongue,  in  imitation  of  those 
emitted  by  the  blackcock  and  capercali.  Indeed,  many 
of  their  movements,  too,  are  performed  with  a  view  to  out- 
do the  capers  and  circling  jum.ps  and  spinning  motion 
performed  by  these  lovesick  birds  of  the  mountains. 

The  accompanying  sounding  slaps  on  the  muscular 
thighs  and  on  the  iron-shod  soles  of  the  heavy  shoes  by 
the  brawny  horny  hands  of  these  fellows,  the  crowing, 
loud  shouts,  snatches  of  songs,  intermingled  with  shrill 
whistling,  ferocious  stamping  on  the  ground  with  the 
greatest  possible  force,  create  a  din  and  a  roar  of  which 
only  they  who  have  heard  it  can  form  any  conception. 

The  floor  rocks,  the  wooden  beams  of  the  ceiling 
tremble,  the  windows  —  if  there  are  any  —  clatter  as  if 
an  earthquake  were  shaking  the  very  foundations  of  the 
house. 

The  pushing  and  crushing  before  the  separation  of  thr 
couples   has   occurred,  and   the  whole   company  is  y(  t 


A   FEASAiVrS    JVEDD/XG.  233 

dancing  the  \-alse  in  a  fasliion  more  or  less  akin  to  the 
one  seen  in  our  own  ballrooms,  are  often  terrible,  and 
the  bumps  against  the  wall  or  doorway  are  generally  of 
huge  force ;  but  nobody  shows  any  ill-feelings  or  anger, 
be  the  push  ever  so  hard,  or  the  heavy  tramp  on  the  foot 
ever  so  painful.     All  is  mirth,  gay  and  rollicking  fun. 

While  the  male  dancer  performs  his  odd  antics,  his 
partner,  holding  her  short  but  ample  skirts  with  both 
hands,  continues  to  dance  in  a  circling  motion  round 
him,  smiling  approvingly  the  madder  and  higher  he 
jumps,  or  the  more  dii^icult  his  gymnastic  evolutions. 

In  Brandenburg,  and  one  or  two  other  Tyrolese  valleys 
v/hich  boast  of  a  particularly  muscular  fair  sex,  the  girl 
at  the  conclusion  of  her  swain's  fantastical  jumps  catches 
hold  of  him  by  his  braces,  and  hoists  him  up  bodily 
(aided  of  course  by  a  corresponding  jerky  action  of  her 
partner),  and  while  he,  balancing  himself  with  both  hands 
on  her  shoulders,  treads  the  ceiling  of  the  low  room  to 
the  tune  of  the  music,  she  continues  her  dance  round  the 
room,  displaying  a  strength  and  power  that  can  only  be 
appreciated  if  one  has  seen  the  strapping  six-foot  fel- 
lov/s  that  are  thus  handled  by  their  fair  partners.  If 
many  dancers  crowd  the  room  (more  or  less  confined,  if 
it  be  not  a  large  barn) ,  this  practice  is  fraught  with  some 
danger,  as  of  course  when  swinging  himself  down  the 
dancer  very  frequently  pitches  upon  some  unfortunate 
couple  who  may  at  that  moment  be  close  to  the  spot 
where  this  singular  gymnastic  dance  is  about  to  terminate. 
This  figure  affords,  of  course,  a  very  striking  sight ;  and 
though  there  are  rarely  more  than  four  or  five  men 
"  hoisted  "  at  one  time  (not  every  one  of  the  girls  has 
the  power,  nor  every  dancer  the  requisite  agility),  it 
serves,  taken  as  a  whole,  to  increase  the  remarkable  fea- 
tures of  a  "  Tanzboden,"  or  dancing-room,  in  the  remote 
valleys  of  the  country. 

It  is  a  somewhat  erroneous  impression,  that  there 
exists  a  dance  called  "  Schuhblatteln  "  or  shoe-slapping. 
The  term  denotes  merely  that  movement  —  introduced 
into  the  valse,  polka,  and  any  other  of  the  few  dances 


2  34    GAD  DINGS    WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

these  people  know  —  in  which  the  male  dancer  strikes 
the  soles  of  his  shoes  and  his  thighs  with  the  outspread 
palm  of  his  hand,  accompanying  this  movement  with  the 
antics  and  the  sounds  I  have  described.  Those  who  are 
unable  to  do  this  continue  the  round  dance. 

In  many  of  the  valleys  the  girls  are  passionately  fond 
of  smoking  \  and  it  is  an  odd  sight  to  see  many  of  the 
comely  lasses  pace  it  with  a  blazing  cigar  or  pipe  between 
their  chubby  hps.  It  is  quite  consonant  with  the  eti- 
quette of  one  of  these  rustic  ballrooms  to  smoke  while 
dancing ;  in  fact,  the  man  who  can  perform  any  agile  feat 
while  smoking  increases  thereby  his  reputation  for  agility. 

Now  and  then  young  fellows  from  the  neighboring  val- 
leys visit  a  ballroom  for  the  express  purpose  of  creating 
a  disturbance,  ending  in  a  fight,  often  of  alarming  dimen- 
sions, if  the  natives  are  not  in  sufficient  force  to  eject  the 
rioters  ft'om  the  precincts  of  the  house.  I  once  had 
the  luck  to  get  mixed  up  in  one  of  these  affrays.  Even 
the  musicians  were  drawn  in  ;  and  one  of  them,  I  remem- 
ber well,  distinguished  himself  by  dealing  heavy  blows 
with  his  brass  trombone,  leaving  it  at  the  termination  of 
the  disturbance  a  useless,  misshapen  mass  of  metal. 

To  place  one's  hat  on  the  head  of  one's  fair  partner  is 
synonymous  with  the  declaration  "  Thou  art  mine ;  "  and 
beware  of  clanger  if  the  girl  has  allowed  this  distinction, 
having  at  the  same  time  another  swain  !  Of  course  a 
native  will  not  commit  himself  in  this  way  before  he  is 
quite  certain  of  his  case,  or  if  he  has  not  the  express  de- 
sire to  call  his  rival  out  to  fight ;  but  strangers,  or  such 
as  may  be  unacquainted  with  this  odd  custom,  are  not 
unfrequently  entrapped.  I  have  seen  several  strangers 
and  tourists  very  roughly  handled  indeed  by  the  enraged 
rivals  —  in  fact,  the  majority  of  fights  among  the  hot- 
headed young  fellows  of  a  village  are  caused  by  quarrels 
originating  on  the  "  Tanzboden."  Jealousy  is  in  the 
Highlands  of  Tyrol  no  less  a  feature  of  ardent  youth 
than  in  the  most  civilized  country  of  the  world  ;  the  only 
difference  between  the  manner  in  which  these  differences 
are  settled  being  that  in  the  former  the  fist,  the  teeth,  and 
unfortunaLely  also  the  knife,  pla}'  a  conspicuous  role. 


A    PEASANT'S    WEDDING.  235 

I  have  actually  witnessed  only  two  fights  that  termi- 
nated fatally,  one  on  the  frontier  of  Bavaria,  the  other  near 
Schwaz,  in  the  Inn  valley.  In  both  instances  the  knife 
was  used  ;  and  the  victim  was  in  each  case  the  stronger  of 
tl-te  two  combatants,  as  fine  specimens  of  stalwart  youth- 
ful manhood  as  one  could  see. 

In  the  Highlands  of  Bavaria,  as  I  have  said  once  be- 
fore, the  use  of  the  knife  is  far  more  prevalent  than  in 
T\Tol,  and  I  have  known  as  many  as  three  young  fellows 
fall  its  victims  in  one  village  in  one  year.  These  knives 
are  worn  in  a  small  sheath  sticking  in  a  separate  pocket 
in  the  leather  trousers ;  and  as  the  handle  protrudes,  it  is 
a  dangerously  handy  weapon,  though  the  blade  com- 
monly does  not  exceed  four  inches  in  length.  It  is  not 
very  long  since  the  use  of  knives  was  prohibited  by  law, 
and  any  one  carrying  one  was  fined.  This  salutary  meas- 
ure, however,  did  not  long  remain  in  force,  and  the 
abuses  of  the  knife  are  now  in  Bavaria  as  frequent  as 
ever. 

Returning  to  our  ballroom,  we  find  that  the  dances 
are  short,  and  follow  each  other  closely,  the  interval 
between  each  being  filled  up  by  a  "  Schnaddahiipfler,"  — 
a  short  song,  or  rather  series  of  rhymes,  expressing  senti- 
ments either  of  defiance  or  derision  destined  for  some 
rival's  ear.  It  is  sung  by  one  of  the  dancers,  standing  in 
front  of  the  slightly  raised  platform  upon  which  the  musi- 
cians are  seated ;  his  girl  stands  at  his  side,  generally 
with  cast-down  eyes,  and  profuse  blushes  mantling  her 
cheeks.  It  is  marvelous  with  what  rapidity  the  object  of 
the  affront  or  scoff  will  compose  his  reply,  replete  with 
imputations  of  like  or  worse  kind,  and  in  this  manner  two 
rival  bards  will  continue  for  a  considerable  length  of  time 
to  take  turns  in  casting  impromptu  slander  or  scornful 
contempt  at  each  other.  The  girl,  if  there  is  no  refrain 
to  her  swain's  off-hand  poem  in  which  she  can  join,  has 
to  remain  silent ;  the  pre-occupation  of  the  poet's  mind 
while  raking  together  those  incidents  of  his  rival's  life 
which  he  fancies  he  can  turn  to  account,  and  the  mental 
labor  of  composing  while  dancing,  exckiding  very  natu- 


236     GADDIXGS    WITH  A   rRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

rally  the  possibility  of  repeating  the  brand-new  "  Schnad- 
dahijpfler  "  to  his  partner  in  the  five  or  six  minutes  each 
dance  lasts.  Love,  of  course,  furnishes  by  far  the  great- 
er portion  of  subjects  for  this  modern  "  troubadouring." 

A  girl  changing  lovers,  or  refusing  the  hand  of  an  ar- 
dent wooer,  will  be  the  welcome  subject  of  scores  of 
" Schnaddahupfler  "  at  the  next  dance  or  wedding;  and 
though  they  are  generally  of  a  very  dubious  morality, 
these  songs  furnish  a  capital  illustration  of  that  poetic 
vein  which  marks  the  inhabitants  of  most  mountainous 
countries,  and  the  Tyrolese  pre-eminently. 

Not  every  young  fellow  ventures  to  fling  one  of  these 
daring  compositions  at  the  head  of  his  rival.  Want  of 
skill,  or  the  fear  of  giving  out  after  the  first  or  second 
song,  obliges  him  to  be  satisfied  with  one  of  the  usual 
national  lays,  in  which  his  girl,  and  very  frequently  sun- 
dry other  voices,  join. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  priest,  carrying  a  huge  stable- 
lantern  in  his  hand,  entered  the  room  and  ordered  the 
music  to  cease.  Retiring  in  a  body  down  to  the  bar- 
room, we  awaited  the  departure  of  the  conscientious 
guardian  of  order ;  and  as  soon  as  his  back  was  turned 
out  came  a  Zither  and  a  Hackbrettel,  and  five  seconds 
later  several  couples  were  pacing  it  to  the  charming  tune 
of  a  genuine  "  Landler."  Zither  and  Hackbrettel  are 
two  instruments  unknown  in  England ;  and  though  the 
first  may  have  often  been  seen  by  tourists  in  the  hands  of 
Tyrolese,  the  latter  is  much  more  rarely  met  with.  Rows 
of  small  oblong  pieces  of  a  particular  kind  of  wood  are 
fixed  on  plaits  of  straw.  The  pieces  of  wood,  being  of 
different  length  or  shape,  emit  different  sounds  when 
struck  with  a  small  wooden  mallet,  of  which  the  player 
holds  one  in  each  hand.  Though  this  instrum.ent  is  very 
primitive,  and  never  can  rival  the  Zither  —  in  my  opinion 
the  most  charming  musical  instrument  existing  —  it  does 
very  well  for  dancing  purposes,  and  hundreds  of  times 
have  the  two  little  hammers  been  in  motion  the  better 
part  of  a  night,  while  I  and  two  or  three  natives  were 
"kicking  up  our  heels,"  making   the   barn  or  the  low- 


A   PEASAiVT'S    WEDDIiVG.  237 

roofed  bar-room  resound  with  our  vigorous  '•'  Schuhblat- 
teln."  In  this  instance,  as  both  instruments  were  in  use, 
the  tunes  followed  each  other  with  rapidity,  and,  making 
us  very  thirsty,  increased  our  beer-consuming  powers  to 
an  astonishina;  extent. 

At  four  o'clock  we  separated,  each  dancer  accompany- 
ing his  girl  home,  —  a  precaution  in  this  instance  at  least 
necessary,  as  fresh  snow  had  fallen,  and  some  of  the  girls 
had  come  a  good  distance. 

Four  hours'  sleep  in  a  bed  —  for  a  wonder  comfortable, 
and  not  more  than  about  eighteen  inches  too  short  —  was 
a  welcome  refresher ;  and  as  I  well  knew  the  next  night 
would  be  a  sleepless  one,  I  was  glad  to  get  at  least  that 
rest. 

Repairing  to  the  church  at  a  few  minutes  before  nine, 
I  was  just  in  time  to  see  the  two  "  happy  "  couples  enter 
the  edifice.  I  say  "  two  "  couples  ;  for  in  this  instance  the 
ceremony  was  a  double  one,  the  parents  of  the  bridegroom 
celebrating  their  golden  wedding  the  very  same  day  their 
son  was  married.  The  old  couple,  having  the  prece- 
dence, were  led  to  the  altar,  a  wreath  was  placed  on  the 
old  lady's  head,  and  the  whole  marriage  ceremony  gone 
through  as  it  had  been  just  fifty  years  before.  After  the 
two  old  people  had  been  duly  and  solemnly  re-wedded 
for  the  rest  of  their  days,  the  young  couple  were  led  up 
to  the  priest  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  altar.  There  is 
nothing  very  striking  to  us  in  the  marriage  ceremony  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  so  we  will  accompany  the  whole  fes- 
tive party  back  to  the  inn,  where  a  substantial  meal  was 
awaiting  them.  On  leaving  the  church  a  bunch  of  artifi- 
cial flowers  adorned  with  gold  and  silver  tinsel  was  pre- 
sented to  each  of  the  "guests,"  or  persons  invited  to 
partake  of  the  meals  at  the  table  of  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom. A  huge  specimen  placed  by  fair  hands  on  my 
hat  corroborated  my  fears  that  I  should  have  to  share 
their  meal,  in  lieu  of  taking  part  at  the  shooting-match 
that  was  then  just  about  to  commence.  A  refusal  on  my 
part  to  "  dine  "  with  the  rest  of  the  guests  would  ha\'e 
been  considered  the  height  of  rudeness  or  the  result  of 


'd 


8     GADDINGS    WITH  A   PKIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


great  pride  ;  and  as  I  did  not  wish  to  incur  either  of  these 
reproaches,  I  had  to  malce  the  best  of  it,  and  accept  the 
seat  of  honor  between  the  bride  and  the  "Herr  Vicar." 
My  late  breakfast  had  reduced  to  a  minimum  my  capa- 
bihties  of  partaking  of  a  ten-o'clock  forenoon  dinner,  and 
enabled  me  all  the  better  to  watch  the  feats  of  eatinar 
accomplished  around  me  on  all  sides.  Meats  cooked  in 
various  manners,  in  all  of  which,  however,  fat  and  grease 
])redominated,  were  the  chief  features  of  that  early  dinner  ; 
and  even  considering  that  these  frugal  people  rarely  touch 
meat  more  than  twice  or  three  times  a  year,  their  appe- 
tites for  this  delicacy  were  amazing.  The  last  dish  con- 
sisted of  huge  cuts  of  bacon  swimming  in  a  sea  of  mol- 
ten butter,  and  the  hearty  way  this  "plat  "was  attacked 
could  not  fail  to  increase  the  astonishment  of  an  observer 
unaccustomed  to  appetites  a  la  Brandenberg.  Dinner 
lasted  three  hours,  and  finally,  after  drinking  the  health  of 
the  old  and  the  young  couple  in  numerous  glasses  of 
vdne,  the  party  rose  and  made  their  way  to  the  dancing- 
room,  where  music  and  dancing  had  been  going  on  for 
three  hours  already,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  had  not 
been  invited  to  dinner.  After  looking  on  for  a  few  min- 
utes and  applauding  the  two  old  people's  performance  in 
a  steady  valse,  I  retired,  eager  to  join  the  rifle-match. 

To  the  mind  of  a  Tyrolese,  the  shooting-match  is  by 
far  the  most  important  feature  of  any  fete,  wedding,  or 
feast-day  that  may  have  charmed  him  from  his  cottage. 
Rain,  wind,  hail,  thunder,  cold,  or  snow,  is  incapable  of 
keeping  him  at  home  when  he  knows  that  at  the  next  vil- 
lage or  lonely  country  inn  a  rifle-match  is  going  on. 

In  this  instance  the  innkeeper  had  arranged  the  match  : 
two  "  running  stags "  and  two  fixed  targets  had  been 
placed  in  the  rifle-range,  and  the  markers  at  each  target 
paid  by  him.  He  had  even  gone  farther  in  honor  of  the 
occasion,  and  had  given  three  prizes,  consisting  of  silver 
florins  sewed  on  large  bright-colored  handkerchiefs.  The 
priest  had  added  another  prize,  and  a  citizen  from  the 
next  townlet  had  sent  a  huge  pipe,  while  another  had 
presented  a  new  rifle.     Adding  to  these  prizes  the  few 


A    PEASANT'S    VVEDDIA'G.  239 

Silver  florin-pieces  with  which  I  had  provided  myself  for 
this  occasion,  I  took  my  stand  in  the  little  shed,  open  on 
all  sides,  from  whence  the  competitors  fired. 

My  hand  being  still  rather  shaky  from  the  wine  at  din- 
ner, I  confined  myself  at  first  to  the  fixed  targets  at  200 
yards,  presenting  a  bull's-eye  six  inches  in  diameter,  pro- 
\ided  with  three  rings  each  an  inch  apart.  The  center, 
a  pin's  head,  counts  five ;  the  first  ring,  measuring  two 
inches  in  diameter,  counts  three  ;  the  next,  four  inches  in 
diameter,  two  ;  and  the  last  ring  in  the  bull's-eye,  only  one 
point.  The  white  space  round  the  bull's-eye  is  not  sub- 
divided into  rings,  as  any  shot  striking  blank  counts 
nothing.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  a  man  who  can  not 
hit  every  time  the  No.  i  ring  at  least,  or,  in  other  words, 
who  cannot  pierce  at  200  yards  a  saucer  measuring  six 
inches  in  diameter,  has  very  little  chance  of  winning  a 
prize  at  a  Tyrolese  shooting-match.  In  the  larger  valleys, 
where  the  same  attention  is  not  given  to  rifle-practice,  a 
stranger  would  have  a  better  chance  ;  but  in  the  more 
secluded  glens,  where  the  rifle  is  constantly  in  the  hands 
of  a  man,  he  must  be  indeed  a  good  shot  to  get  even  a 
minor  prize. 

An  hour's  practice  steadied  my  nen^es,  and  I  changed 
ray  position  to  the  next  partition  of  the  shed,  set  apart 
for  the  marksmen  firing  at  the  stag.  The  "  running  stag  " 
consists  of  the  wooden  figure  of  a  stag  rigged  up  by 
means  of  a  huge  pendulum  in  such  a  manner  that  when 
loosened  it  would  dart  across  an  open  space  eight  feet 
in  vvidth,  between  tall  and  dense  bushes.  The  pace  at 
which  this  imitation  stag  traveled  was  about  equal  to  that 
of  a  living  specimen  in  full  flight.  A  bull's-eye,  painted 
on  the  "  Blatt  "-region  of  the  heart,  had  to  be  hit  in  the 
same  way  as  a  fixed  target,  but  of  course  this  was  a  hun- 
dred times  more  difficult,  considering  the  rapid  move- 
ment of  the  mark  ;  and  yet  there  were  three  or  four  men 
present  who  had,  out  of  six  shots,  hit  the  bull's-eye  five 
limes,  —  a  mai-velous  feat,  seeming  well-nigh  incredible, 
as.  at  a  distance  of  140  yards,  you  saw  the  stag  flash  past 
}ou.     One  of  the  stags  was  for  practice  ;  the  other  was, 


240     GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRIMiriVE   PEOPLE. 

however,  the  mark  upon  which  nearly  all  the  prizes  were 
staked.  A  large  number  of  competitors  being  present,  it 
was  found  necessary  to  restrict  each  man  to  six  shots  at 
the  "grand  count;"  and  fortunately  for  me,  I  determined 
to  shoot  my  six  shots  that  day,  and  not  keep  any  over  for 
the  next  (the  match  was  extended  over  both  da3^s),  as  I 
dreaded  "  wild  "  shooting  after  a  long  night  of  dancing 
and  drinking.  The  sequel  proved  that  I  had  done  very 
wisel)',  as  all  those  men  who  had  not  followed  this  pre- 
cautionary measure  shot  in  such  bad  form  the  next  day, 
that,  at  the  termination  of  the  match,  I  pulled  off  sixth, 
with  a  prize. 

After  firing  my  allotment  I  was  glad  to  get  back  into 
the  house,  as  loading  and  shooting  at  a  temperature  of 
4°  Fah.  were  rather  uninviting  occupations.  I  dare  say 
many  of  my  readers  would  have  been  amazed  to  see 
these  men,  with  bare  knees  and  open  shirt,  and  in  many 
instances  even  without  their  coats,  just  as  they  came  out 
from  dancing  in  the  heated  atmosphere  to  fire  a  few  shots, 
stand  there  for  an  hour,  and  hardly  remark  that  "  To-day 
it  is  a  bit  cold." 

Dancing,  which  had  commenced  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  was  now  at  its  height,  and  was  kept  up  without 
intermission  till  six  o'clock,  when  supper  was  announced. 
At  the  morning  dinner  the  relatives  and  next  friends  only, 
not  mentioning  myself,  had  been  invited.  Now  every- 
body present,  and  there  were  considerably  over  250  peo- 
ple, ate  and  drank  at  the  expense  of  the  "  happy  couple." 
Huge  long  tables  with  benches  on  both  sides  v.-ere  fixed 
wherever  there  was  room ;  and  the  dishes,  consisting  of 
"  Knodel,"  huge  balls  of  cooked  dough,  with  small  pieces 
of  fat  bacon,  and  "  Geselchtes,"  a  sort  of  smoked  pork 
boiled  in  fat  rather  than  water,  were  placed  in  huge  bowls, 
as  large  as  a  moderate  foot-pan,  on  each  table.  Those 
who  had  no  plates  helped  themselves  direct  from  the 
dishes,  while  large  stone  jugs  filled  with  beer,  or,  if  the 
marriage  is  "rich,"  as  they  say,  with  wine,  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth.  At  our  table,  where  the  same  company 
assembled  as  in  the  morning,  we  had  a  repetition  of  the 


A   PEASANT'S    WEDDING.  24 1 

"  dinner  "  dishes,  and  the  long  interval  had  given  me  the 
necessarv  zest  to  enjoy  the  rich  viands.  The  din  and 
roar  throughout  the  house  was  something  terrific.  Here 
a  man,  elated  by  his  happy  shot  right  in  the  center  of  the 
stag's  bull's-eye,  was  singing  a  "  Schnaddahupfler,"  in 
which  he  was  deriding  an  unlucky  companion  who  had 
lost  tvvo  Mass  wine  —  about  three  quarts  —  in  a  bet  on 
that  shot ;  there  a  man  had  recommenced  an  old  quarrel 
with  his  vis-a-vis  about  a  certain  chamois  which  botli 
swore  they  had  hit,  and  still  there  was  only  one  hole  in 
the  carcass.  In  one  corner  a  man  was  bawling  for  more 
drink ;  while  in  the  opposite  one  two  young  fellows, 
stretched  across  a  table,  were  endeavoring  to  setde  the 
question  of  their  relative  muscular  strength  by  a  game 
of  "  Fingerhackeln  ;  "  there  two  lasses  lighting  their  pipes 
with  one  match,  and  vieing  to  outdo  each  other  in  produ- 
cing the  most  dense  clouds  of  vile  tobacco-smoke. 

Though  mirth  was  at  its  height,  and  wherever  one 
looked  laughing  faces  might  be  seen,  there  was  no  drunk- 
enness among  the  two  or  tliree  hundred  guests. 

Supper  lasted  for  more  than  two  hours.  Fresh  pans  of 
"  Knodel  "  and  huge  platters  of  meat  were  forever  appear- 
ing, and  their  contents  disappearing,  with  a  rapidity  most 
wonderful  to  behold.  My  neighbor  to  the  right,  the 
brother  of  the  bride,  whose  capacities  in  the  way  of 
"  Knodels  "  and  "  Speck  "  I  had  watched  at  the  morning 
meal,  fairly  outdid  himself  in  the  evening.  To  my  cer- 
tain knowledge,  fourteen  of  the  former,  measuring  each 
at  the  very  least  three  inches  in  diameter,  fell  by  his  hand, 
not  to  mention  sundry  hunches  of  the  very  fattest  bacon  ; 
and  it  was  not  astonishing  that  at  the  termination  of  his 
repast  his  head  sank  on  his  breast,  his  eyeUds  drooped, 
and  five  minutes  later  he  was  fast  asleep,  with  his  shaggy 
head  resting  on  the  festive  board. 

At  about  half-past  nine,  when  most  of  the  people  had 
left  for  the  dancing-rooms  (a  second  room  had  been 
emptied  of  chairs  and  tables,  and  devoted  to  dancing) 
the  "  Ehrengang,"  an  institution  of  great  antiquity,  in  use 
as  early  as  the  fourteenth  century,  began. 


242     GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

It  consists  of  the  presentation  of  money  to  the  newly- 
married  couple  by  each  person,  be  it  man,  woman,  or 
child,  present  at  the  wedding. 

The  chief  table,  where  the  couple  had  sat  during  sup- 
per, being  cleared,  a  large  brass  or  pewter  dish,  covered 
by  a  clean  napkin,  is  placed  at  the  head  in  front  of  the 
godmother  of  the  bride  —  the  mother  is  rigorously  ex- 
cluded from  being  present  at  any  part  of  her  daughter's 
weddins:.  At  the  side  of  the  former  sits  an  uncle  or 
Irrother  of  the  bride,  a  sheet  of  paper  before  him,  and  a 
pencil  in  his  hand.  The  gift  of  each  guest  has  to  consist 
of  at  least  two  florins  (about  four  shillings),  one  florin 
being  a  present,  the  second  one  is  supposed  to  pay  for 
the  supper.  Those  who  are  present  at  both  meals  are 
expected  to  give  at  least  three  florins,  while  those  w-ho 
come  in  later  and  have  no  share  in  the  eating  and  drink- 
ing give  one  florin.  The  money  is  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  godmother,  and  is  hidden  by  her  underneath  the 
jiapkin,  while  her  neighbor  scribe'  notes  down  the  name 
of  the  donor  and  amount  of  his  gift,  a  proceeding  which, 
though  somewhat  business-like  and  odd,  arises  from  the 
reciprocal  custom,  that  when  the  giver  manies  he  expects 
the  exact  amount  of  money  from  the  bridegroom  that  he 
had  given  at  the  occasion  of  the  latter's  wedding. 

The  bride  and  her  affianced  stand  a  little  apart  from 
the  table,  she  with  an  ever-full  wineglass  in  her  hand,  he 
at  the  side  of  a  gigantic  basket  filled  with  huge  buns 
of  coarse  flour,  and  unpalatably  greasy.  As  each  guest 
emerges  from  the  crowd  hovering  around  the  "  pay-table," 
the  bride  presents  the  full  wineglass,  the  bridegroom  a 
bun  ;  the  former  is  drunk  off  to  the  health  and  prosperity 
of  the  couple,  the  latter  forthwith  disappears  in  the  coat 
or  dress-pocket  of  the  well-wisher,  to  ht  hoarded  up  for 
the  next  Sunday  cup  of  coffee,  or  any  other  propitious 
occasion. 

I  vfas  highly  amused  in  watching  the  various  expressions 
of  the  guests'  physiognomies  as  they  tendered  their  hard- 
earned  florins  to  the  steady  matron,  who  just  bowed  her 
head  in  a  stately  manner  as  each  individual  pressed  the 


'A   FEASANT'S    WEDDING.  243 

two  or  three  pieces  of  crumpled  paper  or  silver  florins 
into  her  hand.  Now  and  again,  when  a  "  fiver  "  iiiade  its 
appearance,  a  smile  of  welcome  would  hover  round  her 
lips;  but  never  a  "thank  you"  or  other  expression  of 
gratitude  passed  her  lips.  As  the  money  is  not  hers,  the 
thanking  is  left  to  tlie  rightful  owners,  the  happy  couple. 

No  less  amused  would  a  stranger  be  to  watch  the  so- 
licitude with  which  the  elderly  female  relations  of  the 
couple  collect  in  the  ample  folds  of  clean  napkins  the 
pieces  of  meat,  bacon,  or  pastry  that  have  remained  in 
the  dishes. 

Neatly  packed  \\\),  they  are  carefully  carried  home,  and 
furnish  a  Sunday  dinner ;  or,  if  they  happen  to  be  of  an 
imperishable  nature,  they  are  hoarded  up  for  years  as 
mementos  of  the  fC'te. 

In  other  parts  of  T3T0I  presents  in  the  shape  of  furni- 
ture, such  as  a  bed,  a  chest,  or  a  table,  are  given  ;  and 
though  such  gifts  as  these  are  commonly  restricted  to  rel- 
atives of  the  couple,  the  same  law  of  returning,  at  the 
proper  occasion,  exactly  the  same  description  of  "  ca- 
deau,"  holds  good  also  in  these  instances. 

A  much  more  singular  custom  in  the  way  of  wedding- 
presents  is  to  be  met  with  in  several  of  the  remotest  Tyr- 
ciese  valleys,  —  the  presentation  of  a  cradle  to  the  bride 
by  each  one  of  her  discarded  lovers. 

At  the  wedding  of  a  rustic  belle,  who  for  a  series  of 
years  has  held  court  in  her  summer  palace,  the  Alp-hut, 
and  who  can  boast  of  a  whole  train  of  ardent  admirers, 
frequently  five,  six,  and  seven  cradles,  of  the  very  rough- 
est construction,  are  found  in  front  of  the  house-door,  on 
the  morning  alter  the  wedding. 

Very  often  it  happens  that  just  those  girls  wlio  have 
enjoyed  life  to  the  utmost  ultimately  marry  some  man 
much  older  than  themselves,  who  can  offer  thein  what 
most  of  their  lovers  could  not,  a  house  and  home ;  and 
though  it  may  not  exactly  be  conduci\e  to  the  serene 
conjugal  happiness  of  the  husband  to  find,  on  awakening 
on  the  morning  after  his  vv-edding,  his  doorway  blocked 
up  with  these  tangible  proofs  of  his  wife's  faux  pas,  they 


244    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

tend,  no  doubt,  to  set  at  rest  any  doubts  he  may  have 
entertained  as  to  their  exact  number. 

The  "  Ehrentanz,"  or  the  dance  of  honor,  takes  place 
immediately  after  the  last  guest  has  presented  his  gift. 
This  is  the  solemn  dance  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  the 
nearest  of  her  relations,  and  any  guests  whom  the  bride- 
groom desires  to  honor  and  distinguish.  All  the  rest  of 
the  dancers  line  the  wall,  while  the  host  of  the  inn  and  his 
wife  stand  near  to  the  musicians.  As  each  couple,  slowly 
waltzing  round  the  room,  pass  the  host,  a  full  glass  of  wine 
is  presented  to  the  man,  who  has  to  present  it  to  his  part- 
ner, and  only  after  she  has  drunk  of  it  may  he  drain  the 
glass.  Upon  the  brother  of  the  bride,  or,  if  she  has  none, 
upon  the  bridegroom's,  devolves  the  duty  of  singing  a  short 
"  rhyme  "  in  praise  of  the  occasion  after  each  of  his  rounds  ; 
and  now  comes  the  most  comical  feature  of  the  whole. 
If  the  bridegroom  has  been  a  gay  Lothario  in  his  day,  or 
the  bride  a  little  too  fond  of  her  male  admirers,  or  if,  worst 
of  all,  there  are  any  tangible  proofs  of  her  former  miscon- 
duct, any  one  of  the  dancers  lining  the  wall  can  stand  forth, 
and  in  a  gay  rhyme  accuse  him  or  her  of  any  incidents 
that  are  of  questionable  character. 

To  these  the  brother,  the  champion  for  both  bride  and 
bridegroom,  has  to  answer,  and  if  possible  retaliate  with 
some  severe  cut.  In  Brandenberg  this  custom  is  not  so 
generally  observed  as  in  several  other  valleys  ;  I  have  seen 
as  many  as  fifteen  and  twenty  of  these  public  accusers  tell 
tales  of  former  sins.  As  they  are  invariably  of  a  highly 
questionable  character,  I  must  refrain  from  giving  in- 
stances. 

For  a  rejected  lover,  or  one  that  has  been  thrown 
overboard  in  lieu  of  a  richer  or  handsomer  one,  this  is 
obviously  the  best  opportunity  possible  for  revenging  him- 
self ;  and  very  frequently  scenes  of  former  love  come  upon 
the  tapis  that  seem  to  civilized  ears,  to  say  the  least,  un- 
seemly. 

In  the  Bavarian  valleys  they  have  long  dances,  each  one 
lasting  frequently  an  hour  at  a  time,  which  have  their  dis- 
tinct names  :  —  the  "  Bride's  dance,"  the  "  Hunger  dance," 


A    PEASANT'S    JVEDD/XG.  245 

the  "  Drink  dance,"  the  "  Cabbage  dance,"  and  several 
others,  among  them  the  "  Kranzl,"  or  "Wreath  dance," 
which  corresponds  to  the  "  Ehrentanz  "  of  Tyrol.  It  is 
the  last  in  which  bride  or  bridegroom  participate.  The 
former  dances  it  with  the  "  best  man  "  —  who,  as  we  see, 
is  till  the  very  last  a  plagued  individual  —  as  her  partner, 
while  her  newly-wedded  spouse  performs  "  the  steps  "  with 
the  "  honorary  mother,"  an  agecl  dame  who  represents  the 
mother  on  that  important  day.  In  Bavaria,  when  the  com- 
pany chaffs  the  bridegroom,  his  aged  partner  gets  her  share 
too,  and  in  a  feigned  paroxysm  of  rage  he  bundles  her  on  to 
a  wheelbarrow  (which  has  been  secreted,  expressly  for  this 
purpose,  underneath  the  musicians'  platform),  and  trun- 
dles her  out  of  the  room  amidst  loud  laughter  and  vocifer- 
ous' cheers.  On  his  return  he  is  surrounded  by  the  brides- 
maids, who  have  robbed  the  bride  of  her  bridal  wreath. 
A  sprig  of  rosemary  is  torn  from  it,  and,  placing  it  on  a 
wooden  platter,  after  having  broken  the  sprig  in  two,  they 
present  it  to  the  husband,  accompanying  this  performance 
with  the  somewhat  prosaic  words,  "  And  now,  Mr.  Bride- 
groom, we  all  wish  you  a  good  appetite." 

After  the  "  Ehrentanz  "  the  newly-married  couple  de- 
part, and  the  musicians,  whom  thus  far  they  had  paid,  are 
now  entirely  dependent  upon  the  public.  True,  not  quite 
so  entirely  as  one  might  suppose,  for  if  the  receipts  do 
not  come  up  to  their  standard,  they  begin  to  scratch  the 
fiddle,  and  display  in  other  ways  their  contempt  for  the 
close-fisted  public. 

The  way  in  which  they  are  paid  by  the  dancers  is  singu- 
lar. A  plate  is  put  in  front  of  the  musicians,  and  after 
every  dance  one  or  the  other  of  the  dancers  is  expected 
to  accompany  his  "  Schnaddahiipfler  "  song  with  a  ten  or 
twenty  kreutzer  piece  (about  twopence  or  fourpence). 
After  the  "  Ehrentanz  "  the  dancers  settled  down  to  real 
good  earnest  work,  to  be  kept  up  the  whole  night.  Mer- 
rier and  merrier  got  the  crowd,  and  oftener  and  oftener 
did  the  glowing  couples  disappear  to  quench  their  thirst 
in  quarts  of  beer  or  gills  of  "  Schnapps." 

A  novel  and  certainly  dangerous  way  of  cooling  one's 


246    GADDIXGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

glowing  face  and  throbbing  heart  is  put  into  practice  by 
these  hardy  fellows.  Coat  and  waistcoat  have  long  since 
been  discarded  as  too  hot ;  and  so  in  their  shirt-sleeves, 
accomr'anicd  by  their  partners,  they  adjourn  to  the  well 
in  the  courtyard.  While  he  breaks  off  the  long  icicles 
that  crest  the  spout,  the  lass  lays  hold  of  the  pump-liandle, 
and  in  the  icy-cold  water  that  spurts  forth  he  bathes  face, 
neck,  and  chest !  And  yet  consumption  or  any  com- 
plaint of  the  chest  is,  if  not  quite  unknown,  of  very  rare 
occurrence  in  these  valleys. 

Dancing  ceased  at  six  oclock  in  the  morning,  for  the 
tolling  church-bell  announced  early  service  in  honor  of 
the  saint  whose  "  day"  it  happened  to  be. 

At  seven  o'clock,  when  service  was  over,  we  were  again 
at  it  with  fresh  vigor,  obtained,  in  my  case  at  least,  in  the 
shape  of  a  very  solid  breakfast.  An  hour  later  shooting 
in  the  range  commenced  ;  but  on  trying  my  luck,  when  I 
finally  got  tired  of  dancing,  I  found  that  a  night's  "  spree  " 
does  not  tend  to  steady  one's  hand.  I  gave  it  up  as  a 
bad  job  after  firing  some  ten  or  twelve  rounds. 

Re-commencing  dancing  with  a  batch  of  fresh  fair 
dancers,  —  who  had  not  been  up  the  whole  night,  —  the 
fifteen  or  twenty  3^oung  fellows,  including  myself,  who  had 
determined  to  hold  out  as  long  as  there  was  a  nail  in  our 
shoes,  were  animated  with  fresh  strength.  We  kept  it  up, 
Avith  an  hour's  intermission  for  dinner,  till  six  o'clock  that 
evening ;  or  in  other  words,  we  had  accomplished  the  feat 
of  dancing  more  than  thirty-two  hours,  with  the  sole 
break  of  the  four  hours  that  had  been  given  up  to  sleep 
the  first  night. 

After  indulging  in  a  hearty  supper  we  commenced  our 
preparations  for  our  start  homewards.  Three  young  fel- 
lows, natives  of  a  village  close  to  my  home,  had  decided 
to  accompany  me  that  night  rather  than  to  stop  the  night 
at  the  inn  and  return  next  morninfr. 

O 

Provided  with  huge  bundles  of  pine  torches  and  a 
botde  of  "  Schnapps,"  we  started  at  about  eight  o'clock 
that  evening. 

Heavy  falls  of  snow  had  obliterated  evcrv  trace  of  the 


A    FEASAXT'S    WEDDJNG.  247 

Steps  that  had  been  imprinted  in  the  deep  snow  the  pre- 
vious day,  thereby  materially  increasing  the  difliculties  of 
our  task. 

Though  we  had,  all  four  of  us,  broad  snow-hoops  on 
our  feet,  we  sank  far  beyond  our  knees  in  the  yielding 
mass  of  snow. 

Had  I  not  been  so  fatigued  by  my  uninterrupted  dan- 
cing the  two  previous  days,  our  march  home  would  have 
been  a  pleasing  and  interesting  finish  to  my  midwinter 
expedition  to  Brandenberg. 

Silently  we  pushed  on  for  many  hours.  The  glare  of 
the  torclies,  the  mysterious  silence  of  nature  under  a 
heavy  pall  of  snow,  the  ghostlike  appearance  of  the  trees, 
the  odd  and  ilmtistical  shadov/s  on  the  Avhite  background, 
and  finally  the  dull  thud  and  roar  now  and  again  when  a 
tree,  giving  way  under  the  weight  resting  on  every  portion 
of  it,  snapped  asunder,  were  all  features  of  my  nocturnal 
return  home  from  a  peasant's  wedding. 

In  many  of  the  larger  valleys,  as  for  instance,  the  Unter- 
innthal,  Zillerthal,  and  Brixenthal,  which,  as  the  German 
phrase  has  it,  '•  are  licked  by  civilization,"  the  old  wedding 
customs  have  of  late  years,  to  a  grest  extent  at  least,  been 
done  away  with.  In  some  instances  innovation  in  these 
quaint  and  pleasing  relics  of  bygone  ages  were  a  source 
of  contention  for  that  part  of  the  population  who,  though 
the  shriek  of  the  locomotive  was  within  earshot,  were  not 
ashamed  to  continue  to  do  as  their  forefathers  did. 

Several  years  ago  an  instance  of  the  general  unpopu- 
larity in  which  the  modernized  wedding  customs  vv'ere 
hel'l  came  under  my  immediate  notice.  A  wealthy  young 
"  VVirth  "  —  who  had  been  for  several  years  in  Munich 
and  Vienna,  imbibing  there  a  predilection  for  town  man- 
ners and  habits  —  had  his  wedding  with  a  damsel  of  his 
native  townlct  conducted  strictly  on  "  town  principles," 
inviting  only  a  limited  number  of  guests,  doing  away  with 
the  usual  public  dancing,  and,  in  fact,  turning  the  usual 
merrymakings  at  a  rural  v/edding  into  the  torturously 
wearisome  ceremony  prescribed  by  the  rigorous  code  of 
civilization.      The  young  fellows  and  fair  lasses  of  his 


248     GADDINGS  WITH  A    PKLMiriVE   PEOPLE. 

native  townlet  took  this  remodeling  of  time-honored 
customs,  and  particularly  the  fact  that  they  were  deprived 
of  their  dance,  greatly  amiss.  Not  content  with  showing 
their  dissatisfaction  in  various  ways,  they  determined  to 
carry  out  the  bright  idea,  proposed  by  one  of  them,  of 
arranging  a  "  blind  wedding  "  on  the  very  day  and  in  the 
very  inn  selected  by  the  object  of  their  wrath  for  the 
solemnization  of  his  mannage. 

The  indignation  and  wrath  of  the  pompous  bride- 
groom can  be  fancied  when  he  perceived  taking  place  an 
exact  counterpart  of  his  own  ceremony,  going  into  every 
detail,  such  as  the  same  number  of  carriages,  and  the 
same  number  of  "  poller  "  shots  —  small  cannon.  Short 
of  the  actual  marriage-scene  in  the  church,  the  comic 
farce  was  an  exact  copy  of  the  genuine  ceremony  and 
the  subsequent  festivities.  The  roomy  Wirthshaus,  the 
site  of  both  wedding  dinners,  was  divided  into  two 
antagonistic  strongholds,  the  genuine  guests  occupying 
the  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  the  sham  ones  disport- 
ing themselves  in  the  upper  apartments.  A  band  of 
music  having  been  provided  by  the  latter,  dancing  com- 
menced shortly  after  dinner;  the  male  guests  of  the 
bridegroom,  numbering  about  a  fourth  of  their  uproari- 
ously gay  enemies,  and  being  obliged  therefore,  in  view 
of  the  heavy  odds  that  would  be  brought  to  bear  against 
them  if  any  quarrel  arose,  to  keep  very  quiet,  had  not 
only  to  pocket  the  insult  of  the  whole  proceeding,  but 
actually  were  constrained  to  stand  by  and  witness  their 
sisters,  daughters,  or  sweethearts  carried  off  to  the  dan- 
cing-room by  their  rivals. 

The  sham  bride,  a  dressed-up  man,  brought  the  matter 
to  a  head  by  entering  the  room  tenanted  by  the  bride- 
groom's party,  and  going  up  to  him  knocked  the  hat  off 
his  head,  and  picking  it  up  placed  it  on  his  own.  I  have 
said  what  the  act  of  placing  one's  hat  on  a  girl's  head 
means.  The  bride,  bursting  into  tears  at  this  further  in- 
dignity, upbraided  her  affianced  for  his  conduct.  The 
latter,  stung  to  the  quick  by  the  whole  affair,  was  just 
about  laying  hands  on  the  fiend  in  woman's  shape,  when 


A   FEASANT'S    WEDDING.  249 

a  body  of  gendarmes  —  the  niral  police  —  entered  the 
room,  and  put  a  stop  to  any  further  disturbance.  The 
host,  well  aware  that  a  tight  on  a  grand  scale  would  very 
probably  be  the  finish-up  of  this  whole  farce,  had  dis- 
patched a  messenger  on  horseback,  at  an  early  hour  in 
the  morning,  to  the  next  town,  to  fetch  a  body  of  these 
peacemakers.  Their  arrival  in  the  evening  occurred,  as 
we  have  seen,  in  the  nick  of  time  :  a  few  minutes  later, 
and  they  would  have  found  the  whole  house  a  scene  of 
fierce  fighting,  on  a  scale  rendering  even  the  intervention 
of  twenty  or  thirty  gendarmes  of  but  little  use.  As  it 
was,  three  gendarmes,  posted  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
cut  off  all  communication  between  the  two  hostile  parties, 
and  were  able  to  keep  the  peace  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 


250    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MORE   ABOUT   WEDDINGS   IN  THE   ALPS. 

I  HOPE  the  last  chapter  has  not  entirely  forestalled  the 
interest  in  some  other  wedding  customs  of  which  I 
learned  on  other  occasions. 

A  fashionable  marriage  solemnized  at  any  of  our  aris- 
tocratic hymeneal  altars,  and  a  wedding  celebrated  in  a 
primitive  little  mountain  hamlet  in  Tyrol,  are  both  spec- 
tacles unique  in  their  way  \  but  only  those  who  have 
chanced  to  witness  both  can  know  what  an  unfathoma- 
ble source  of  interesting  speculation  is  aftbrded  by  a 
contemplative  comparison  of  the  two  ceremonies.  The 
moralist  could  fill  a  short  volume  with  collations  of  social 
features  of  the  two  respective  countries ;  the  national 
economist  could  do  the  same  with  interesting  deductions  ; 
a  mental  equation  could  be  worked  out,  in  which  Eng- 
land's wealth  and  love  of  display,  and  Tyrolese  appetite 
and  intellectual  stagnation,  formed  the  unknown  numbers. 
The  antiquarian,  again,  v/ould  be  enabled  to  throv/  strong 
light  upon  the  origin  and  gradual  development  of  tail- 
coats and  wedding-cakes. 

I,  however,  belong  to  neither  of  these  classes,  and  con- 
tent myself  with  having  given  a  few  useful  hints  for  the 
benefit  of  the  learned.^ 

Foremost  in  all  matters  connected  with  a  rural  wed- 
ding is  the  Flochzeitlader,  or  best  man ;  in  fact,  his  posi- 
tion is,  generally  speaking,  of  far  greater  consequence 
than  that  of  the  happy  bridegroom  himself. 

1  Wedding  customs  differ  considerably  throughout  the  Tyrol.  For  some  rea- 
sons and  minor  details,  see  appendix. 


MORE  ABOUT   WEDDINGS  IN  THE  ALPS.      251 

Dressed  in  his  Sunday  best,  bright  man)--colored  rib- 
bons on  his  hat,  a  nosegay  composed  of  carnations  in  his 
button-hole,  he  sets  out,  four  or  five  weeks  before  the 
wedding,  on  his  round  of  visits.  His  duty  is  to  invite 
relations  and  acquaintances  to  the  wedding  of  his  friend. 

Let  us  follow  his  steps  as  he  enters  the  house  of  a 
well-to-do  peasant,  a  "  Freund "  of  the  bridegroom. 
("Freund,"  or  friend,  means  with  the  peasantry  a  person 
more  or  less  distantly  related.)  He  walks  into  the  chief 
room,  and,  without  saying  a  word  of  greeting,  immedi- 
ately commences  his  set  speech  of  invitation.  "  Bride 
and  bridegroom,"  he  begins,  "  send  me  hither  to  "convey 
to  you  their  good  wishes,  and  it  is  their  simple  behest, 
and  my  pleasant  duty,  to  ask  you  to  be  present  at  the 
pleasures  and  inerrymakings  at  their  wedding.  They  ask 
you  to  partake  of  a  breakfast  in  the  bride's  paternal 
house.  Subsequently  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  ac- 
company them  on  the  roads  and  on  the  paths,  across  vv'oods 
and  meads,  across  the  country  and  the  fields,"  across  the 
mountains  and  the  hills,  to  the  village  church,  where  re- 
sides St.  Jacob.  There  you  will  find  present  a  reverend 
priest,  who  will  tie  the  knot  sacred  and  indissoluble  save 
by  death.  After  this  holy  ceremony  we'll  accompany  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  back  to  the  'wedding  house,' 
where  a  rib  of  beef,  a  forkful  of  '  kraut,'  a  spoonful  of 
soup,  a  glassful  of  wine,  and  a  bit  of  bread,  such  as  God 
Almighty  has  placed  in  cellar  and  kitchen,  will  be  offered 
to  us.  As  long  as  the  hackbrettel  will  stick  together,  and 
as  long  as  there's  a  string  left  on  the  guitar,  we'll  dance, 
jump,  and  be  merry." 

The  invited  party  answer  this  polite  invitation  by  ac- 
cepting it,  not  in  word,  but  by  placing  before  the  ex- 
hausted best  man  a  dish  of  rich  pancakes  and  a  bottle  of 
wine.  This  act  of  hospitality  signifies  their  acquiescence. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  they  thank  him,  and  say  they  vrill 
come,  without  oUering  him  his  well-earned  reward  for  a 
tramp  of  many  hours  across  mountain  and  moor,  he 
knows  that  the  festive  board  on  the  wedding-day  will  not 
be  honored  by  their  presence. 


252     GADDTNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

In  other  valleys,  again,  etiquette  requires  that  the  in- 
vited persons  should  simulate  the  utmost  astonishment 
when  informed  that  their  "  friend  "  is  about  to  enter  the 
holy  bonds  of  matrimony.  They  cross-question  the  mes- 
senger, and  exhibit  a  feigned  surprise  at  every  word  he 
tells  them,  that  speaks  well  for  their  talent  as  actors. 
They  accept  the  invitation  with  the  most  profound  ex- 
pressions of  gratitiide,  but  it  is  left  entirely  to  the  wily 
eye  of  the  best  man  to  detect  if  their  acceptal  is  meant 
as  such,  or  is  simply  to  be  taken  as  a  ruse  to  get  him 
away  as  quickly  as  possible. 

This  is  a  very  cridcal  point  foi  our  friend.  His  sharp 
eye  and  practiced  discernment  must  guide  him  through  it ; 
for  woe  to  him  if  the  estimate  of  the  number  of  guests 
who  attend  the  wedding  proves  to  be  wrong  !  If  less 
people  come  than  he  expected,  he  and  his  friend,  the 
laridegroom,  must  pay  for  the  covers  that  were  ordered 
for  the  defaulters.  If,  on  the  contrary,  more  people  come 
than  be  expected,  the  case  is  no  less  awkward,  for  offense 
is  easily  taken  by  the  peasantry,  and  though  perhaps  they 
will  not  show  it  at  the  time,  a  lifelong  grudge  is  the  result. 

The  price  of  a  cover  at  a  rich  peasant's  wedding  fre- 
quently runs  up  to  five  and  six  florins.  The  cost  of  the 
cover  is  included  in  the  money-present  every  guest,  be 
he  a  relation  or  only  an  acquaintance,  has  to  make  to  the 
bridegroom  and  bride.  Many  a  man,  not  disposed  to 
purchase  a  day's  carousal  at  the  cost  of  eight  or  ten 
florins,  will  therefore  endeavor  to  get  out  of  it  as  best  he 
can,  without  actually  declining  the  invitation  point-blank. 

We  see  that  the  difficulties  that  beset  the  path  of  our 
friend  are  not  a  few.  In  many  places  —  as,  for  instance,  in 
the  majority  of  the  Bavarian  Highland  valleys  —  profes- 
sional "  best  men  "  are  employed,  rather  than  personal 
friends  of  the  bridegroom.  These  men  are  the  wits  of 
their  villages.  They  are  but  rarely  duped,  for  their  natu- 
ral sharpness,  and  especially  their  long  practice,  make 
that  nigh  impossible ;  and  the  estimate  made  by  a  profes- 
sional best  man  will  hardly  ever  be  at  fault. 

In  poorer  valleys  the  bridegroom  imitates  the  example 


MORE  ABOUT  WEDDINGS  IN  THE   ALPS.      253 

of  some  of  his  'r}Tolese  confihres,  and  does  the  inviting 
business  himself.  In  others  a  perso7ia  coniica  in  the 
shape  of  tlie  so-called  '' Hennen  Klemmer  "  (we  might 
render  this  word  by  "  hen-prigger  ")  appears  at  the  side 
of  the  "  marriage-broker  "  when  on  his  rounds  of  festive 
import. 

This  character,  usuall)'  the  brother  of  the  bride,  has 
the  prerogative  of  stealing  a  hen  from  every  peasant's 
house  his  companion  enters  for  the  purpose  of  inviting 
any  one  of  the  members  of  the  family.  If  he  can  man- 
age to  do  so  unobserved,  the  booty  is  his ;  but  if,  on  the 
contrary,  he  is  discovered,  nothing  but  immediate  flight 
will  save  him  from  a  ducking  in  the  large  pump-troughs, 
or  a  sound  beating. 

Let  us  skip  the  fortnight  that  intervenes  between  the 
last  invitation  and  the  important  morning. 

The  day  has  hardly  dawned  when  we  are  startled  by 
Icud  poller  ^  shots,  accompanied  by  far-echoing  jodlers 
and  the  shrill  blast  of  sundry  musical  instruments. 

The  paternal  house  of  the  fair  bride  begins  to  fill  with 
crowds  of  gayly-attired  peasants,  to  each  of  whom  wed- 
ding favors,  in  the  shape  of  bunches  of  artificial  flowers, 
are  given. 

Presently  tlie  "  best  man,"  accompanied,  if  the  bride 
is  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  peasant,  by  two  assistant 
groomsmen,  is  perceived  by  the  watchful  mother,  wending 
his  or  their  steps,  as  the  case  may  be,  up  the  steep  path 
leading  to  the  house. 

The  company  assembled  is  hushed,  the  people  sit  down 
in  formal  rows  on  chairs  or  benches,  to  await  the  coming 
ceremony,  in  dignified  silence.  The  best  man  enters  the 
room,  and,  without  taking  any  notice  of  the  rest  of  the 
crowd,  he  walks  up  to  where  the  bride's  father  is  seated, 
and  addresses  him  as  follows  :  — 

"  When  we  were  here  last  we  appointed  a  maiden  to 
pick  rosemaries,  and  to  darn  her  torn  linen  :  we  would 
like  to  sec  her  now,  and  to  convince  ourselves  if  she  has 

'  A  small  cannon. 


C54    GADDIXCS  WITH  A   PR/A/IT/J-E   FJIOILE. 

done  her  duty ;  for,  otherwise,  we  won't  pay  her  her 
v/ages." 

The  peasant  nods  smiUngly,  and  tells  his  wife  to  l:)rin.g 
in  the  maiden.  Instead  of  complying  with  this  order, 
the  oldest  and  the  ugliest  of  the  maid-servants  of  the 
];easants  is  ushered  in.  A  broad  grin  lights  up  the  wrin- 
Ided  face  of  the  hag,  as  she  steps  up  to  the  best  man,  and, 
lidding  up  her  skirts,  makes  a  dainty  little  bow  to  tliat 
august  personage,  saying  — 

"  I  have  done  what  you  told  me ;  here  is  a  fine  nose- 
gay of  rosemaries,"  and,  holding  up  a  bunch  of  nettles, 
she  waves  it  to  and  fro  under  the  very  nose  of  the  man, 
whose  part  compels  him  to  feign  supreme  astonishment. 
'■'  Aren't  they  fine,  and  don't  they  smell  sweetly?  "  the  old 
hag  continues,  Vv'hile  she  uncovers  a  huge  basket  filled  to 
the  brim  with  rags  and  shreds  of  household  linen.  "  Here 
is  the  linen  I  have  darned,"  are  her  words,  as  she  brings 
a  handful  of  rags  under  the  close  inspection  of  the  bewil- 
dered "  best  man,"  who  now  pulls  out  a  huge  pair  of  imi- 
tation spectacles  of  wood,  and,  after  fixing  them  on  his 
nose,  cries  out, — 

"Why,  you  have  aged  amazingly  since  I  last  saw  you," 
and,  catching  hold  of  her,  he  turns  her  round,  examining 
her  closely.  "  Why,  you  are  humpbacked,  and  you  squint, 
and  your  hair  is  gray,  and  your  face  is  wrinkled,  and  you 
haven't  a  tooth  in  your  mouth.  I  fear  you  have  been 
bewitched  by  Mistress  Trude,"  exclaims  the  "best  nian ;  " 
"  but  I  have  got  a  salve  which  will  restore  your  beauty,, 
and  make  your  hump  vanish  from  your  back ; "  and 
forthwith  he  draws  from  his  pocket  a  piece  of  paper,  in 
which  is  wrapped  a  shilling  or  two. 

The  old  hag,  wagging  her  head,  says,  — 

"It's  no  use."  She  knows  vvell  that  she  never  can  be 
made  young  again,  but  to  please  him  she'll  try ;  and  wdth 
these  words  she  collects  her  rags  and  nettles,  and  hobbles 
out  of  the  room. 

The  best  man  then  repeats  his  speech  to  the  father,  who 
jiovv  gets  up  and  leaves  the  loom,  saying  he  will  look  for 
his  daughter  himself.     Presently  he  returns,  leading  her. 


MORF,   ABOUT  WEDDIA'GS  /A'   THE  ALPS.      255 

In  her  right  hand  she  holds  a  bunch  of  rosemaries,  and 
in  her  left  a  shirt  of  homespun  hnen  made  by  herself. 
Both  of  these  she  presents  to  the  best  man,  as  a  reward 
for  his  pains.  The  whole  party  then  sit  dovv'n  to  a  "  break- 
fast "  of  somewhat  substantial  dimensions,  consisting  of 
broth,  several  meats  dressed  with  a  sauce  of  melted  but- 
ter, and  bacon  swimming  in  grease. 

While  this  meal  is  partaken  of,  the  musicians  of  the 
village  arrive,  and  station  themselves  outside  of  the  house, 
where  they  set  up  a  discordant  peal  of  shrieks  and  blasts. 
Nothing  but  a  piece  of  money  and  a  jug  of  beer  or  wine 
will  tune  their  instruments.  At  last  the  party  breaks  up, 
and  headed  by  the  band,  now  restored  to  good-humor, 
the  train  slowly  wends  its  way  down  the  steep  slope,  across 
the  meads  and  woods,  on  their  way  to  the  village  church. 
It  is  a  charming  sight  to  see  the  gayly-attired  crowd,  full 
of  mirth  and  fun,  glide  along  the  quiet  lanes,  traverse 
somber  forests,  as  yet  untouched  by  the  morning  rays  of 
the  sun.  The  merry  strains  of  the  music  wafted  up  to 
you  by  the  cool  morning  breeze,  the  splendid  landscape 
round  you,  the  rolling  echoes  of  the  poller-shots  and  the 
loud  melodious  jodlers,  all  unite  in  forming  a  very  pleas- 
ing scene  ;  which,  if  you  are  in  the  least  a  lover  of  nature 
and  of  the  stalwart  merry  people  who  inhabit  the  less- 
known  mountain  recesses,  will  remain  impressed  upon 
your  mind  for  many  a  day  to  come. 

The  harmonious  sounds  of  the  distant  village  church- 
bells,  as  they  "  ring  in  "  the  couple,  float  up  to  our  point 
of  view,  and  startle  us  from  the  deep  rcvery  into  which 
the  sight  of  the  merry  train,  of  the  unspeakable  beauties 
of  nature,  has  cast  us.  We  hasten  down  the  steep  wind- 
ing path  towards  the  church,  where  we  anive  just  in  time 
to  witness  the  "  salting  of  the  kraut."  This  ceremony  is 
a  very  common  one  all  through  the  Alps,  and  is  decidedly 
a  remnant  of  the  customs  that  were  peculiar  to  the  Ger- 
manic tribes  more  than  a  thousand  years  ago. 

The  hostess  of  the  inn  where  the  wedding-meal  and 
the  dance  are  to  be  held  posts  herself  near  the  church- 
door,  and,  when  the  bridal  train  approaches,  she  catches 


256     GADDIiVGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

hold  of  the  bride,  and  obliges  her  to  accompany  her  into 
the  inn.  They  enter  the  large  kitchen,  crowded  with 
busy  women,  cooking  and  preparing  the  numberless  dishes 
which  are  to  appear  on  the  festive  board. 

A  huge  iron  pot  filled  with  kraut  —  a  sort  of  cabbage 
—  is  presented  to  the  bride,  the  person  doing  this  accom- 
panying the  act  by  the  rhyme,  — 

Jungfer  Braut, 

Loss  dar  a  guade  Lehr  geben  : 

Salz  dei  Kraut 

Ober  versalz  dein  Monn  nit's  Leben. 

Which  translated  means,  — 

My  maiden  bride, 

Take  heed  of  my  advice  : 

Salt  well  thy  cabbage, 
But  not  thy  husband's  life. 

The  blushing  bride  has  then  to  throw  a  handful  of  salt 
into  the  pot ;  and  the  women  in  the  Idtchen  chant  a  song, 
which  finishes  the  ceremony. 

The  whole  company  then  repair  to  the  neighboring 
church,  where  the  sacred  knot  is  tied. 

What  a  bright  blush  mantles  the  girl's  fair  cheeks  ! 
What  a  smile  of  perfect  content  plays  about  the  well- 
shaped  mouth  of  the  stalwart  bridegroom,  as  hand  in 
hand  they  descend  the  church  steps,  to  be  received  by 
salvos  of  poUer-shots,  loud  rejoicings,  and  tremendous 
blasts  of  the  trumpet  and  clarionet  !  Wine  in  large  two- 
quart  bottles  is  produced,  and  amid  laughter  and  jollity 
it  is  drank  on  the  spot. 

The  party  then  repair  to  the  inn,  where  the  dinner  — 
the  reader  must  remember  it  is  hardly  ten  o'clock  by  this 
time  —  is  spread  on  numerous  tables.  It  begins  with  two 
kinds  of  soups,  followed  by  from  eight  to  twenty  different 
courses  of  meat,  bacon,  pastry,  &c.  It  is  frequently  four 
and  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  the  last  guest 
leaves  the  table,  only  to  return  to  it  in  the  course  of  the 


MORE  ABOUT  WEDDINGS  IN  THE  ALPS.      257 

next  two  or  tliree  hours,  for  there  are  yet  two  meals  to  be 
cleared  off  that  day. 

At  the  termination  of  the  last  meal,  at  a  late  hour  of 
the  night,  the  usual  toasts  on  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
are  drank  :  a  good  harvest,  a  fine  breed  of  cattle,  and 
finally,  but  not  least,  a  tubful  of  children,  are  wishes 
which  are  rarely  omitted. 

The  toasting  finished,  the  best  man  rises,  and,  taking  a 
glass  of  wine  in  his  hand,  addresses  to  the  company  a 
comic  speech,  running  as  follows  :  — 

"  IMy  dear  mai-ried  couples,  and  boys,  and  wenches,  I 
drink  this  glass  to  your  health.  Were  I  to-day,  for  once, 
God  Almighty,  I  would  present  vow  with  all  the  riches  of 
the  world,  and  a  long  life  to  enjoy  them.  To  the  couple 
yonder  I  would  give  two  dozen  children  into  the  bargain ; 
or,  were  I  Joshua,  I  would  command  the  sun  to  remain 
on  the  sky  above  us  for  ever  and  ever,  so  that  this  day's 
feasting,  dancing,  and  singing  would  never  come  to  an 
end ;  but  as  I  am  neither  the  Creator  himself,  nor  his 
henchman  Joshua,  I  can't  forbear  to  remind  you  all,  who 
are  here  present,  that  you've  eaten  like  wolves,  and  have 
drank  like  beasts,  and  yet  nobody  has  thought  of  the 
'  Wirth,'  and  of  paying  for  this  feast.  But  our  kind  enter- 
tainer makes  you  a  present  of  the  meats,  and  of  the 
soups,  and  of  the  wine  —  not  that  you  deserve  it ;  but  he 
requires  to  be  paid  for  the  bones  of  the  meat,  for  the  salt 
in  the  soup,  and  for  the  water  you  drank.  The  males 
present  are  all  rascals  and  drunkards,  forever  at  the  pot- 
house, the  Evil  One's  chapel,  and  so  he'll  let  you  have 
the  lot  for  two  florins  each  :  but  the  women  here,  who  are 
rarely  to  be  seen  in  the  inns,  they,  by  the  name  of  St. 
Michael,  must  pay  double  the  amount  for  their  meal ; 
they  each  must  pay  two  hundred  kreutzers  (which  is 
exactly  the  same  as  two  florins)  slap  down  upon  the  table. 

"  And  now,  because  I  have  come  to  an  end  with  my 
say,  let's  join  in  a  prayer  to  Jesus  Christ  to  honor  this 
wedding  with  His  presence,  in  the  same  way  as  He  did  the 
one  in  Galilee,  so  that  we  all,  the  bride  and  the  bride- 
groom, the  village  and  the  vale,  Jiiay  receive  the  '  Holy 
\'irgin's  '  most  gracious  blessing.     Amen." 


258     GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

The  company  then  rise  and  adjourn  to  the  large  Tanz- 
boden  of  the  roomy  inn.  This,  the  dancing-room  of  the 
house,  is  frequently  a  semi-detached  shed,  with  large 
openings,  but  no  windows,  all  round,  in  order  that  a 
thorough  draught  may  refresh  the  indefatigable  dancers. 

The  Ehrentanz,  the  dance  of  honor,  is  then  performed, 
and  a  series  of  comical  by-plays  are  enacted  by  the  gay- 
est and  wittiest  of  the  young  village  bucks.  Now  the 
bride  is  suddenly  carried  off  and  hidden. 

The  sharpest  lads  of  the  village  are  selected  for  this 
exploit.  The  attention  of  the  bridegroom  is  diverted  by 
various  means,  and  while  he  is  lending  a  willing  ear  to 
some  tale  of  mortal  combat  between  poachers  and 
keepers,  or  retaliating  some  sarcastic  attack,  the  bride  is 
carried  off  by  her  captors.  If  the  bridegroom  is  not 
liked,  and  there  is  any  cause  for  spite,  she  is  bori;e  in  a 
carriage  to  another  village  and  brought  to  the  inn,  where 
the  gay  party  set  to  work  to  run  up  as  large  a  bill  as  they 
possibly  can.  The  best  the  kitchen  and  cellar  contains  is 
ordered  up,  and  by  the  time  the  angry  bridegroom  has 
tracked  their  steps,  a  prodigious  figure  is  summed  up  on 
the  slate  tablet  of  the  Kcllnerin.  The  bridegroom  has  to 
square  accounts,  or  he  will  not  get  possession  of  his  bride 
till  all  hours  of  the  night,  or  maybe  he  will  find  •  his 
cart  overturned,  or  his  horses  unharnessed  and  turned 
loose.  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  is  a  popular  personage,  the 
captors  will  content  themselves  with  carrying  off  their 
prize  to  the  next  inn  of  the  same  village,  or,  if  there  be 
only  one,  to  the  house  of  some  friend  of  the  bride. 

Sometimes  during  the  festivities  a  sack  is  thrown  over 
the  head  of  the  bridegroom,  and  he  is  not  released  till  he 
guesses  the  name  of  the  malefactor.  For  every  name  he 
calls  out  he  has  to  pay  a  certain  quantity  of  wine  or  beer. 

At  eleven  the  couple  generally  leave  for  their  distant 
home.  The  boys  of  the  village  have,  however,  not  been 
idle  in  the  mean  while.  When  the  couple  arrive  at  their 
house,  they  find  the  doorway  blocked  up  by  a  huge  tree 
fresh  from  the  wood.  This  is  the  so-called  "  Wiegenholz," 
wood  for  the  cradle ;  if  the  bride  has  had  a  little   mishap 


MORE  ABOUT   WEDDINGS  IN  THE  ALPS.      259 

prior  to  her  nuptial  day,  tlie  tree  is  coated  with  pitch, 
obHging  the  angry  husband  to  sully  his  hands  in  his  elibrts 
to  clear  an  entrance. 

This  tree  plays  also  another  role  in  the  history  of  vil- 
lage life.  Peeled  of  its  bark,  and  decorated  with  flags 
and  flitter  of  the  most  heterogeneous  kind,  it  is  placed  at 
night-time  in  front  of  the  bedroom  window  of  the  lass 
whom  the  village  ''  bucks  "  desire  to  distinguish  very  par- 
ticularly. 

It  is  the  highest  honor  that  can  be  conferred  upon  any 
damsel,  and  makes  her  queen  of  the  village,  but,  we  must 
in  justice  add,  the  object  of  the  bitterest  envy  of  the 
female  rivals,  who  leave  no  stone  unturned  in  their  en- 
deavors to  overthrow  the  supremacy.  Sarcastic  remarks, 
dark  hints,  and  backbiting  are,  it  is  needless  to  say,  the 
arms  employed.  In  the  Unterinnthal,  it  is  also  customary 
for  the  male  friends  of  the  bridegroom  to  play  him  some 
trick  on  the  wedding  night.  He  will  find  his  house-door 
nailed  fast,  or  some  sharp  lad  will  have  found  his  way 
into  the  bedroom  and  sevved  the  quilt  to  the  sheet,  or  he 
will  be  douched  with  a  pailful  of  cold  water  as  he  enters 
his  house.  These  tricks,  disagreeable  as  they  may  be  at 
the  time,  are  accepted  by  the  bridegroom  in  a  demure 
spirit.  He  knows  too  well  that  a  show  of  ill-humor  is  of 
no  earthly  use,  and  can  bear  but  evil  results. 

Badly  does  the  bridegroom  fare  if  he  be  a  widower 
who  is  reported  to  have  dealt  unkindly  tov/ards  his  first 
wife,  or  if  he  be  generally  unpopular.  He  is  then  made 
the  subject  for  the  so-called  "  Buhu  musi  "  —  owl's  chant, 
we  might  translate  it  —  to  which  formerly  the  blind  or 
wild  wedding  served  as  introduction.  The  "  owl's  chant  " 
is  very  much  the  same  as  the  German  "  Katzen  music," 
or  cat's  concert,  to  which  unpopular  professors  at  univer- 
sities have  not  infrequently  to  lend  an  unwilling  ear.  It 
is  performed  on  old  kettles,  empty  barrels,  cowbells,  and 
a  host  of  other  domestic  and  agricultural  instruments. 

The  noise  is  something  terrific,  and  continues  as  long 
as  brawny  arms  can  make  it ;  for,  unlike  other  occasions 
where  discordant  strains  are  dc  i-i\^i/eur,  no  bribe  will 
silence  this  outbreak  of  popular  indignation. 


2  6o    GADDINGS  WITH  A   rJUMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

Of  the  "  blind  "  wedding,  to  which  I  have  referred, 
a  specimen  has  been  given  in  the  preceding  chapter. 
Generally  the  proceeding  is  meant  to  hit  off  the  conduct 
of  some  unfortunate  couple  who  have  delayed  the  wed- 
ding day  till,  in  the  eyes  of  the  population,  it  is  too  late 
to  repair  mischief.  Thus,  to  give  a  second  instance 
v/hich  came  under  my  special  notice,  the  host  of  a  vil- 
lage inn,  a  widower  himself,  had  promised  to  wed  his 
fair  young  ''  Kellnerin,"  or  waitress.  The  vv^edding,  how- 
ever, was  not  to  take  place  too  soon,  for  our  widowed 
Lothario  postponed  the  ceremony  from  month  to  month, 
till  finally  the  populace,  roused  to  indignation  by  the 
evidently  intentional  dilatoriness  of  the  faithless  widower, 
determined  to  oblige  him  to  fulfill  his  promise  by  per- 
forming the  "  blind  "  wedding. 

The  next  fete-day  was  chosen.  At  an  early  hour  of 
the  morning  a  gay  wedding  train  moved  through  the  vil- 
lage, amidst  festive  music  and  volleys  of  poller-shots.  In 
the  course  of  the  night  some  handy  young  fellows  had 
erected  a  sort  of  altar  right  opposite  the  victim's  house. 
Here  a  man  dressed  as  a  priest  awaited  the  train,  which 
presently  reached  the  selected  spot.  In  front  marched 
the  two  "  pot-carriers,"  bearing  huge  beakers  filled  with 
water  instead  of  wine.  Behind  them  walked  the  usual 
company  of  gayly-attired  guests,  in  the  midst  of  which 
were  the  fictitious  couple,  made  to  resemble  as  much  as 
possible  the  veritable  malefactor  and  his  confiding  victim. 
At  their  side  were  four  beardless  young  fellows,  dressed 
as  bridesmaids,  holding  huge  bunches  of  nettles  in  their 
hands.  When  the  assembled  company  were  duly  sta- 
tioned at  their  several  posts,  the  priest  asked  the  couple 
if  they  would  marry  each  other  "  for  worse  and  not  for 
better."  Both  replying,  "Yes,"  he  handed  the  husband 
a  vi'ooden  clog  and  the  wife  a  broom,  and  proceeded  to 
preach  the  sermon  he  and  his  companions  had  compiled 
specially  for  the  occasion.  In  it  he  recounted  all  the 
vices  and  failings  of  their  victim  ;  he  warned  his  audi- 
ence against  tampering  with  wine  and  women  —  "  Both 
turn  sour,"  he  says  ;  and,  in  fact,  not  a  vrord  nor  an  act 
of  mine  host  was  left  hidden  by  his  tormentor. 


MORE  ABOUT  WEDDINGS  IX   THE  ALPS.      261 

A  fortnight  later,  the  fictitious  wedding  was  followed 
by  a  genuine  one ;  and,  as  I  was  told  later  on,  the  hus- 
band turned  out  to  be  quite  a  model. 

The  reader  will  join  in  praising  these  '-blind"  wed- 
dings. Their  bad  sides  —  and  they  have  decidedly  some 
weak  points — are  fully  atoned  by  their  good  ones.  Popu- 
lar feeling  is  by  no  means  so  generally  at  fault  as  we  civil- 
ized beings  take  a  pride  in  believing. 

But  to  return  to  the  more  cheerful  ceremonies.  In  the 
Ampezzo  valley,  hardly  is  the  wedding  company  out  of 
the  village,  on  tlieir  way  to  the  distant  homestead,  when 
they  are  met  by  a  troop  of  horsemen,  armed  with  swords, 
hallDcrds,  and  every  species  of  antiquated  arms  that  can 
be  found.  This  troop  is  composed  of  those  of  the  bride- 
groom's friends  and  neighbors  who  have  not  been  invited 
to  the  wedding. 

While  three  or  four  of  the  horsemen  dismount,  the 
others  surround  the  party,  so  that  escape  becomes  impos- 
sible. A  fictitious  fight  ensues,  the  resistance  offered  by 
the  bridal  train  being  of  the  weakest.  They  are  over- 
powered, and  the  bride  is  borne  off  in  triumph. 

While  her  routed  companions  make  the  best  of  their 
defeat,  and  continue  their  walk  towards  the  bride's  house, 
the  captors  proceed  to  the  church,  and  oblige  their  fail 
prisoner  to  walk  three  times  round  the  center  aisle,  where- 
upon they  take  her  to  the  next  inn,  and  treat  her  to  wine 
and  cake  at  the  expense  of  her  husband,  who,  we  may 
presume,  not  infrequently  makes  a  sour  face  when,  later 
on,  he  has  to  pay  for  his  defeat.  The  body  of  cavalry 
escort  the  bride  back  to  her  own  home,  but  do  not  release 
her  until  the  bridegroom  has  promised  to  pay  for  a  sub- 
stantial meal  as  a  fair  ransom. 

After  the  wedding  feast  in  the  inn,  the  party  breaks  uj), 
and  repairs  to  the  future  home  of  the  bride,  —  her  hus- 
band's house,  where  a  second  repast  is  awaiting  them. 
But  before  they  have  time  to  finish  it,  their  tormentors 
of  the  morning,  the  cavalry,  appear  on  the  scene.  The 
house-door  is  locked  and  barred,  but  the  valiant  assault 
of  the  horsemen,  who  dismount  for  this  purpose,  renders 


262    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

it  dangerous  to  hold  out  any  longer.  The  besieged  begin 
to  parley  with  the  enemy,  who  declare  that  there  is  con- 
traband in  the  house,  and  that  they  don't  believe  the 
couple  who  were  in  church  that  morning  are  really 
married. 

A  large  basketful  of  eatables,  and  jugs  of  wine,  are 
handed  out  to  the  ferocious  and  voracious  foes,  with  the 
words,  " That's  all  the  contraband  we've  got;"  and  the 
kiss  which  the  bridegroom  bestows  upon  his  bride  con- 
vinces them  that  "  all  is  in  order."  A  merry  dance  in 
which  the  cavalrymen  join  finishes  the  day. 

Now  let  us  glance  at  the  wedding  day  in  any  one  of 
the  large  well-to-do  Bavarian  villages  north  or  north  west 
of  the  T)Tolese  frontier,  surrounded  by  wooded  hills,  the 
spurs  of  the  Alps.  We  see  plenty  around  us.  The  sub- 
stantial broad-roofed  houses  are  stone-built,  with  wooden 
balconies  running  round  the  first  floor ;  the  huge  barns 
are  filled  to  overflowing  with  corn ;  the  ample  sheds  are 
stocked  with  herds  of  well-kept  cattle  ;  the  very  dress  of 
the  peasantry,  v/ith  their  silver  pieces  as  buttons  on  their 
coats,  betokens  wealth.  The  swift  Inn  sweeps  past  the 
village,  bearing  on  its  majestic  waters  rafts  laden  with 
timber,  salt,  or  general  goods.  The  roads  connecting 
one  village  with  the  others  are  good,  and  every  house  is 
accessible  by  carriage,  or  else  how  could  that  huge 
"fedelwagen"  —  dowry-cart  —  upon  which  are  piled  the 
numberless  odds  and  ends  of  the  bride's  dowry,  reach  its 
destination,  the  young  wife's  new  home  ? 

It  is  a  strange  sight,  shortly  before  the  wedding,  to  see 
one  of  these  gigantic  machines,  drawn  by  four  and  often 
six  black  horses,  decorated  with  boughs,  flowers  and  rib- 
bons, toil  along  the  high  road. 

Amongst  the  load  we  discover  the  "  Hochzeitstruhe," 
a  chest  filled  with  homespun  household  linen ;  another 
chest  containg  the  bride's  dresses,  &c. ;  a  huge  double 
bedstead,  the  nuptial  couch  ;  a  large  crucifix  for  the  bed- 
room ;  several  of  those  terrible  plumots  —  feather-beds  — 
in  their  red  and  white  coverings ;  and  finally,  quite  on 
the  top  of  the  huge  pile,  we  perceive  the  spinning-wheel, 


MORE  ABOUT   WEDDINGS  lA^   THE  ALPS.      263 

with  its  distaff  adorned  with  red  and  blue  ribbons  and 
gay  tinsel,  and  cheek  by  jowl  to  it  is  the  symbol  of  mar- 
riage, the  new  rocking  cradle  !  In  front  of  the  pile  a  seat 
has  been  prepared  for  the  bride,  who,  in  the  character  of 
future  mistress,  guards  the  transport  of  her  dowry. 

In  some  parts,  the  bride,  instead  of  sitting  on  the  cart, 
follows  it  on  foot.  On  her  head  she  balances  the  new 
gayly-painted  milk-pail,  filled  with  flax  and  hemp  instead 
of  milk.  In  one  hand  she  holds  the  distaff,  while  with 
the  other  she  leads  the  bell-cow,  the  prize  animal  of  her 
herd.  A  charming  picture  !  The  laughing  face,  the  long 
plaits  of  her  golden  hair  lianging  down  to  her  waist,  she 
might  be  likened  to  the  goddess  of  domestic  happiness. 

As  invited  guests,  we  have  the  right  to  follow  the  cart, 
bearing  company  maybe  to  the  merry-eyed  lass  who  leads 
the  stately  cow,  a  parting  gift  of  the  indulgent  father. 
But  no,  our  company  is  hardly  recoramendable ;  we  are 
evidently  de  trop.  That  stalwart  3'oung  fellow  in  his  pic- 
turesque attire,  shouldering  a  glittering  ax,  has  evidently 
more  chances  to  find  favor  in  the  e3"es  of  the  damsel  than 
we,  the  invisible  followers.  But  who  is  he  ?  we  ask,  and 
what's  the  meaning  of  the  ax  he  carries  ?  Oh  !  he  is  but 
the  village  carpenter,  who,  in  the  hopes  of  a  free  share  in 
the  wedding  meal  and  a  glass  of  "schnapps,"  offers  the 
services  of  his  craft  to  make  up  and  put  together  the  nup- 
tial couch,  that  chcf-ifoeiivr-c  of  his  art,  the  several  parts 
of  which  we  have  noticed  amongst  the  rest  of  the  load. 
Up  hill  and  down  dale  the  heavy  cart  travels  on  its  festive 
journey.  Swinging  to  and  fro,  it  seems  to  us  in  great 
danger  of  being  turned  over,  and  landed  in  the  deep 
ditch  at  our  side. 

•  All  of  a  sudden  the  caravan  comes  to  a  dead  halt ;  we 
hear  the  oaths  and  heavy  cracks  of  the  enraged  wagon- 
driver's  long-lashed  whip  ;  we  hasten  forward  to  see  the 
cause  of  all  this  hubbub,  and  lo  !  what  do  we  perceive  ? 
A  huge  liarrier  of  heavy  beams,  spars,  and  sticks,  inter- 
spersed with  the  tough  branches  of  the  "  latschenbush," 
is  constructed  right  across  the  road,  where  it  makes  a 
sharp  angle.     The  bride   smiles,  the   driver  swears   and 


264     GADDINGS  IVn^H  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

cracks  his  v/hip  threateningly,  and  the  fair  lass  leading  the 
cow  spies  about  her  into  the  dense  shade  of  the  wood, 
trying  to  discover  a  trace  of  the  mischievous  waylayers. 

But  what  does  the  barrier  mean  ?  Are  we  not  living  in 
the  nineteenth  century?  And  v/ho  dares  to  obstruct  the 
high  road  in  this  scandalous  manner?  We  join  in  the 
driver's  maledictions,  and  declare  ourselves  willing  to  lend 
him  a  helping  hand  in  removing  the  barrier,  for  the  beams 
are  covered  with  pitch  and  rosin  ;  but  our  hands  rue  the 
rash  offer,  and  when  we  finally  have  managed  to  wrench 
them  away,  we  look  at  them  ruefully.  Peals  of  scornful 
laughter  greet  our  ears  :  we  look  round  us  to  discover  the 
insolent  scoffers  ;  but  they  are  so  cleverly  hidden  at  the 
top  of  the  dense  trees  and  behind  clumps  of  latschen- 
bushes,  that  we  fail  to  discover  the  slightest  trace  of 
them. 

But  what  are  we  to  do  ?  The  carpenter,  the  only  per- 
son who  could  remove  the  barrier  by  a  few  strokes  of  his 
sharp  adze,  declares  he  dare  not  risk  the  anger  of  the 
waylayers,  who  would  inevitably  revenge  themselves  were 
he  to  defraud  them  of  their  legitimate  ransom.  Nothing 
is  left  but  to  fetch  the  bridegroom  :  a  horse  is  detached 
from  the  cart,  led  round  the  barricade,  and  the  carpenter, 
mounting  it,  rides  to  the  bridegroom's  house,  where  the 
latter  has  been  anxiously  awaiting  his  bride's  arrival  for 
the  last  hour. 

He  sees  the  horseman  toiling  up  the  road,  and  guess- 
ing very  rightly  the  cause  of  the  delay  and  the  import  of 
the  messenger's  mission,  hastens  down  to  meet  him.  His 
fears  are  confirmed:  the  bride's  dowry-cart  is  "locked," 
and  nothing  can  open  that  pitchy  lock  but  a  ransom  of  a 
couple  of  florins. 

When  the  bridegroom  appi'oaches  the  barrier,  the  evil 
spirits  suddenly  appear ;  their  faces  blackened,  or  painted 
with  red  stripes,  or  hidden  behind  gauze  masks.  They 
commence  a  dance  of  rejoicing,  and  jodel  right  merrily ; 
when  their  victim,  flattered  and  pleased  in  reality,  but 
feigning  displeasure  at  the  delay  that  his  bride  has  experi- 
enced, reluctantly  distributes  the  ransom  in  the  shape  of 


MORE   ABOUT   WEDDINGS  IN   THE   ALPS.      265 

two  or  three  pieces  of  silver.  A  few  strokes  with  the 
sharp  hatchet,  and  the  barrier,  which  has  been  most  in- 
geniously arranged,  falls  asunder,  leaving  a  free  opening 
through  which  the  carriage  continues  its  progress,  whilst 
from  the  surrounding  heights  pistol-shots  and  songs  give 
out  a  pleasing  echo. 

The  bridegroom  hastens  away,  for  country  etiquette 
requires  that  he  should  be  stationed  at  his  own  house- 
door  to  receive  his  bride's  dowry.  When  the  lumbering 
cart  finally  reaches  its  destination,  poUer-shots  and  loud 
jodlers  announce  the  happy  event. 

He  awaits  the  caravan,  standing  on  his  doorstep.  A 
stalwart,  handsome  man,  dressed  in  his  Sunday  best ;  the 
glistening  row  of  silver  buttons  shine  in  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  round  his  well-shaped  mouth  plays  a  smile  of  satis- 
fied pride.  Is  it  the  goodly  dowr)^,  or  the  handsome 
merry-eyed  lass,  which  calls  it  forth?  Rather  than  exam- 
ine this  question,  let  us  watch  his  elastic  step,  as  he  ap- 
proaches the  cart,  and,  placing  his  hands  underneath  his 
bride's  armpits,  swings  her  down  from  her  high  perch  in 
approved  style,  right  on  the  doorstep  of  his  house. 

He  knows  that  the  lookers-on  lay  stress  upon  this  act, 
for  does  it  not  signify  the  actual  taking  possession  of  the 
bride  and  her  goods  and  chattels?  The  bystanders  ap- 
plaud him,  and  a  smile  of  flattered  pride  again  plays 
round  his  mouth.  The  carpenter  lends  a  helping  hand 
in  unloading  the  cart,  and  when  every  thing  is  down  he 
proceeds  to  put  up  the  nuptial  couch. 

Every  thing  but  the  ungainly  straw  mattress  for  the 
bed  has  been  put  in  its  proper  place.  The  former,  how- 
ever, the  bridegroom  himself  must  carry  to  the  bedroom, 
a  proceeding  which  is  lustily  cheered  by  the  company, 
who  immediately  aftcnvards  assemble  in  the  parlor  to 
witness  the  formal  act  of  "giving  over."  This  consists 
in  the  bride  handing  to  her  future  husband  the  keys 
of  all  her  treasures,  accompanying  them  with  a  gift  of  a 
homespun  shirt  and  a  pair  of  new  shoes. 

The  bridegroom  then  shovv's  his  bride  and  the  train  of 
followers  over  the  whole  house ;  he  brings  them  in  to  the 


266     GADDINGS  WITH  A    rKIMiriVE   PEOPLE. 

milk-cellar,  where  long  rows  of  huge  wooden  bowls  tell 
of  the  number  of  cows  in  the  stalls ;  he  takes  them  into 
the  roomy  kitchen,  the  store-room,  the  cowshed,  the  gran- 
ary, the  flour-room ;  in  fact,  no  nook  or  corner  of  the 
house  is  left  unexplored.  While  this  is  going  on,  the 
priest  has  made  his  appearance :  he  is  hospitably  re- 
ceived, with  wine  or  beer,  bread,  butter,  and  cheese. 
After  partaking  of  these,  he  proceeds  to  bless  the  house, 
the  nuptial  couch,  and  the  stores  which  the  bride  has 
brought,  according  to  the  old  Roman  ritual,  "  Benedictio 
thori  et  thalami."  ^ 

For  this  ceremony  the  priest  receives  a  half-florin  piece 
(i^.),  which  is  placed  together  with  a  new  pocket-hand- 
kerchief on  a  plate,  and  thus  both  are  presented  to  him. 

A  pleasing  custom  is  connected  with  this  transport  of 
the  dowry ;  whilst  it  is  taking  place,  the  parish  priest  is 
paid  to  read  a  mass  for  every  one  of  the  lately  deceased 
relations  of  bride  and  bridegroom.  Elsewhere  the  day 
is  brought  to  a  close  by  a  visit  en  masse  to  the  village 
graveyard,  the  bride  and  bridgroom  kneeling  down  and 
praying  a  certain  number  of  prayers  at  the  graves  of 
their  relations. 

The  wedding  eve  vv^as  formerly  a  night  of  revelry  in  the 
bride's  home.  Work  over,  the  youths  and  maidens  of 
the  village  repaired  thither,  each  one  bringing  something 
in  the  eatable  line. 

From  the  stores  thus  collected,  a  simple  repast  was 
prepared ;  and  when  justice  had  been  done  to  it,  the 
whole  company  repaired  to  the  barn  or  granary  adjoining 
the  house,  where  the  real  fete  was  to  take  place. 

The  smooth  floor,  sloping  slightly,  is  carefully  swept,  a 
few  wooden  benches  placed  here  and  there  in  the  dark 
corners  for  lovers'  seats,  and  the  huge  stable -lantern  at- 
tached to  one  of  the  center  beams  overhead  is  trimmed 
and  lighted.  The  musical  entertainment,  duly  provided 
by  the  village  lads,  is  of  modest  description,  but  it  is 
nevertheless  more  than  sufficient   for  the  merry  youths 

1  In  other  districts  this  blessing  takes  place  in  the  bride's  paternal  home,  be- 
fore tlic  goods  and  chattels  constituting  the  dowry  are  removed. 


MORE  ABOUT  WEDDINGS  IX   THE  ALPS.      267 

and  fair  lasses  who  have  begun  to  pair  oft"  in  loving 
couples.  The  Zither,  accompanied  by  the  stirring  bell- 
like tones  of  the  Hackbrettel,  has  begun  to  exercise  its 
resistless  influence  :  the  heavy  tramp,  the  gay  jodel,  the 
agile  figiu-e,  the  shrill  whistle,  and  the  peculiar  tones  of 
"  Schuhblatteln,"  betray  the  zest  and  vigor  of  the  young 
dancers. 

Unrestrained  by  the  presence  of  elderly  lookers-on  or 
anxious  mothers,  the  fair  lassies  are,  with  one  or  two 
exceptions  only,  encircled  by  the  strong  arms  of  their 
respective  stalwart  young  lovers. 

It  is  not  very  many  )ears  ago  that  a  strange  custom 
was  the  chief  feature  of  this  evening.  It  was  called  the 
Cock-dance,  though  in  reality  it  was  rather  a  cock-fight 
than  a  dance.  The  two  largest  cocks  of  the  village  were 
the  actors.  One  represented  the  wife,  and  to  this  end 
his  proud  tail-feathers  were  cut  short,  and  his  comb  tied 
down  and  hidden  by  a  linen  rag  :  the  other  cock,  play- 
ing the  part  of  the  husband,  was  left  in  full  possession  of 
his  manly  attributes.  The  two  birds  were  then  incited  to 
fight.  If  the  "wife  "  beat,  loud  cheering  and  a  host  of 
sarcastical  rhymes,  deriding  petticoat  government,  made 
the  hapless  bridegroom  wTctched  for  the  rest  of  the  even- 
ing. He  was  obliged  to  tie  an  apron  round  his  waist, 
and  to  undergo  various  indignities ;  and  a  huge  imita- 
tion key  of  wood  was  formally  presented  to  the  bride  as 
a  token  of  her  future  supremacy.  The  whole  evening 
was  one  succession  of  merry-making  and  ga\ety ;  in  fact, 
it  was  the  symbol  of  the  last  maidenl\-  pleasures  of  the 
bride.  No  dancing  hereafter,  no  love-making,  and  no 
Schnaddahiipflers  intoned  by  dauntless  lads  in  her  praise. 
If  she  ever  did  enter  the  dancing-room  again,  it  was  on 
the  arm  of  her  husband  at  a  formal  Ehrentanz,  at  the 
wedding  of  some  near  friend  or  relation. 

And  now,  to  make  good  our  lengthy  introduction,  let 
us  don  our  hats,  gayly  decorated,  and  take  our  stand 
among  the  crowd  of  guests.  The  selection  of  the  day 
upon  which  the  wedding  is  to  be  solemnized  is  by  no 
means  left  to  the  free  choice  of  the  couple,  but  is  strictly 


268    GADDTNGS  IVirH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

regulated  according  to  local  custom.  In  Tyrol  it  is  gen- 
erally Monday,  in  Styria  Wednesday,  while  in  Ampezzo 
and  Bavaria  they  are  usually  held  on  Tuesdays. 

Tuesday  is  a  safe  day  ;  it  portends  no  foreboding  evil ; 
on  Tuesday,  no  witchcraft,  nor  sorcery  of  any  sort  or  kind, 
can  throw  a  shadow  upon  the  future  of  the  happy  couple  ; 
on  that  day  no  malicious  act  of  jealousy  can  be  enacted 
by  envious  persons.  A  couple,  in  fact,  married  on  that 
day,  have  no  need  to  disquietude  on  the  score  of  super- 
natural visitations. 

The  substantial "  Morgensuppe"  (morning  soup) ,  a  meal 
consisting  of  several  dishes  of  rich  viands,  opens  the  cam- 
paign at  an  early  hour  of  the  morning,  —  in  many  places 
as  early  as  five  and  six  o'clock.  Only  the  very  nearest 
relations  and  most  honored  guests  partake  of  it.  We  are 
received  by  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand  by  the  bride's 
parents,  attired  in  their  stately  parade  dress  —  a  fashion 
getting  from  year  to  year  more  out  of  use.  The  bride, 
with  her  wreath  of  rosemary  already  in  her  hair,  stands 
behind  her  sturdy  parents  ;  a  smile  of  welcome  is  on  her 
face,  as  she  extends  to  us  her  hand,  with  a  merry  "  Gruss 
Gott !  "  ("God  greet  thee.")  Her  winsom.e  blue  eyes, 
sparkling  with  pleasure,  enhance  the  beauty  of  the  rosy- 
hued  face,  fringed  by  a  halo  of  naturally-curling  golden 
hair. 

The  bridegroom  and  his  party  are  rigorously  shut  out 
from  this  morning  meal.  Vv'e  need  not  give  way  to  qualms 
of  conscience  as  we  seat  ourselves  at  her  side  ;  for  are  not 
the  company  and  conversation  of  a  charming  young  lassie 
far  preferable  to  those  of  her  stiffly  formal  elders,  who,  in 
a  series  of  ludicrous  compliments,  outvie  each  other  in 
exhibiting  a  proper  sense  of  the  importance  of  the  day? 

The  time  for  starting  has  arrived  :  our  undertone  fete-a- 
tete  with  the  fair  bride  has  to  terminate,  for  with  a  hem 
and  cough  the  Procurator  rises  from  his  seat,  and  proceeds 
to  "out-thank"  {ausdanken)  the  bride. 

This  means  nothing  but  a  speech  in  \\hich  the  Procu- 
rator, in  the  name  of  the  bride,  thanks  her  parents  for  the 
love,  forbearance,  care,  &c.,  that  they  have  bestowed  upon 


MORE  ABOUT   WEDDINGS  IN   THE   ALPS.      269 

her  in  her  childhood  and  youth.  Very  quaint  and  odd  this 
speech  sounds  to  us,  and,  though  the  sentiments  betrayed 
therein  are  pleasing,  we  can  not  but  smile  at  the  manner 
of  expressing  them,  and  at  the  words  in  which  they  are 
clothed.  This  ceremony  concluded,  the  "  Ehrengurtel  " 
is  fastened  round  the  bride's  waist  by  the  two  bridesmaids. 

This  "  Ehrengurtel"  is  a  broad  girdle  of  leather,  plated 
with  silver,  and  highly  ornamented.  Every  village  in  cer- 
tain districts  possesses  or  possessed  them  formerly.  The 
girdle,  after  parading  for  the  day  on  the  bride's  waist,  is 
carefully  returned  to  the  keeping  of  the  village  sexton, 
together  with  a  present  for  the  poor.  Lax  as  the  moral 
sense  of  the  peasantry  throughout  the  Bavarian  Elighlands, 
Tyrol,  and  other  mountainous  countries  is,  the  privilege 
of  appearing  with  the  "  girdle  of  maiden  honor  "  was  rig- 
orously refused  to  a  bride  whose  former  conduct  led  one 
to  suppose  that  she  had  forfeited  her  right  to  it. 

Happily  this  was  not  the  case  at  our  wedding;  and 
though  the  fair  lassie,  blushing  deeply  when  her  compan- 
ions encircle  her  full  waist  with  that  honorable  circlet,  has 
had  a  score  of  lovers  after  her,  she  knew  how  to  repel  their 
dangerous  advances,  and  even  then,  when  she  had  singled 
out  her  future  husband  from  the  ranks,  she  abstained  from 
jeopardizing  the  great  privilege  of  pure  maidenhood. 

Every  thing  is  prepared  for  the  final  leave-taking  pre- 
ceding the  bride's  departure  from  her  home. 

In  the  prosperous  Bavarian  valley,  the  bride  has  to  "  feed 
in  "  the  horses  that  are  to  take  her  to  church.  Laying  a 
slice  of  bread  for  each  horse,  on  a  plate,  after  besprink- 
ling the  former  with  salt  and  '•  holy  water,"  she  steps  up 
to  each  of  the  huge  beasts,  and  gives  it  its  share.  When 
she  has  done  this  with  all  four,  she  walks  thrice  round  the 
carriage,  and  after  the  third  time  she  dashes  the  plate 
against  the  right  hind-wheel  of  the  vehicle. 

The  carriages,  for  here  the  roads  are  good  and  each 
house  is  accessible  to  them,  are  waiting  at  the  door.  The 
four  stately  dray-horses,  her  father's  pride,  are  pawing  the 
ground.  Their  long  silky  tails  and  glossy  manes,  care- 
fully braided  into  numberless  little  plaits,  are  adorned  with 


270    GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

red  and  blue  ribbons  and  bows.  The  carriages,  for  there 
are  four  or  five,  are  but  modest  Leiterwagen  —  ladder  carts 
—  the  sides  of  which  are  formed  by  rows  of  slanting  laths, 
resembling  ladders.  They  are  festooned  with  wreaths  of 
flowers  and  garlands  of  yew-branches,  and  furnished  with 
planks  to  sit  on,  offering  accommodation  to  ten  or  twelve 
people  on  each  vehicle.  The  bride  is  swung  on  to  the 
cart  by  her  father,  or,  if  he  is  weak  and  old,  by  the  stal- 
wart Procurator,  who  takes  an  inordinate  pride  in  the 
knack  of  heaving  her  up  with  elegant  ease. 

Salvos  of  poUer-shots  fired  off  behind  the  house  make 
both  us  and  the  horses  start ;  we  scramble  up  on  the  last 
of  the  four  carts,  and  down  the  sloping  hill  we  go  at  full 
gallop.  If  the  distance  to  the  church  is  not  too  great, 
this  pace  is  kept  up  the  whole  distance.  Cheers,  loud 
jodels,  and  smart  cracks  of  the  long  whips  wielded  by 
strong  arms,  mingle  with  the  thundering  peals  of  the 
pollers.  In  the  pauses  we  hear  the  village  bells  chiming 
in  right  merrily.  Joyous  mirth,  laughing  faces,  meny 
songs,  half-comical,  half-sarcastical  rhymes  in  countless 
Schnaddahiipflers,  meet  eye  and  ear.  It  is  a  merry  sight, 
combining  the  picturesque  features  of  nature  with  the 
novelty,  to  a  town-bred  person,  of  seeing  around  naught 
but  pleased  faces.  Mirth  is  depicted  in  every  look  and 
feature  of  man,  woman,  and  child  who  crowd  down  to 
watch  the  gay  party  drive  past,  and  to  shout  a  last  "  B'hiit 
Gott  !  "    ("  God  protect  thee  !  ")   to  the  happy  bride. 

The  merry  strains  of  a  band  are  heard  as  we  approach 
the  village  itself,  for  the  paternal  house  of  the  bride  was 
a  lonely  peasant-dwelling  situated  some  distance  from  the 
village.  Again  salvos  of  pollers  awake  the  rolling  echoes 
of  the  hills  ;  this  time  they  are  fired  off  by  the  host  of 
the  inn,  who  does  not  grudge  a  few  pounds  of  powder 
wherewith  to  honor  the  couple. 

In  the  doorway  of  his  house  stands  the  pordy  host, 
who  doffs  his  green  velvet  skull-cap  as  we  pass  him  at 
full  gallop  on  our  way  to  the  bridegroom's  house.  Here 
we  draw  up  in  grand  style  ;  the  Procurator  jumps  down, 
and  nimbly  swings  the  bride  in  his  approved  style  to  the 


MORE   ABOUT   IVEDDnVGS  IiV   THE   ALPS.      271 

ground.  The  whole  party  enters  the  house  in  order  to 
receive  the  ^Yedding  favors,  which  consist  in  these  parts 
of  a  red  and  white  ribbon,  which  is  knotted  round  the 
right  arm.  The  bridegroom's  favors  are  of  violet  silk, 
and  he  sports  moreover  a  large  bunch  of  rosemary  on 
his  hat. 

The  bridal  train  begins  to  form  :  it  is  close  upon  ten 
o'clock,  and  no  time  to  be  lost. 

The  men  of  both  parties  head  the  train  ;  they  are  led 
by  the  bridegroom,  attended  by  the  Procurator  and  the 
"  hen-priggcr,"  that  clown-like  personage  whose  duties  we 
have  before  alluded  to. 

The  female  contingent  follow ;  they  are  led  by  the 
bride  surrounded  by  her  "  Kranzeljungfern  "  bridesmaids. 

In  front  marches  the  band,  with  long  ribbons  fluttering 
from  the  various  instruments  and  hats  of  the  men. 

The  Procurator's  duties  by  no  means  terminate  with 
the  drive  to  the  church  :  it  is  he  who  has  to  act  the  chev- 
alier in  the  sacred  edifice  ;  he  is  the  only  person  beside 
the  Ehrenmutter  —  honorary  mother  —  who  accompanies 
the  couple  up  the  altar-steps.  Hardly  is  the  usual  church 
ceremony  over,  when  his  duties  recommence.  He  has 
furnished  himself  with  a  bottle  of  white  wine,  which  the 
officiating  priest  has  now  to  bless,  when  some  of  it  is 
poured  out  in  two  glasses,  one  of  which  is  handed  to  the 
couple,  who  have  to. nip  thrice  at  its  contents,  while  the 
other  goes  the  round  of  the  guests  present. 

When  this  has  been  done,  the  organist  intones  a  sacred 
hymn ;  the  party  return  to  their  seats,  while  the  priest 
reads  a  mass  for  the  recently-deceased  relatives  of  the 
couple,  for  which  "a  sacrifice,"  i.e.,  some  money,  is  laid 
on  the  altar-steps  by  the  bridegroom.  This  finishes  the 
sacred  part  of  the  ceremony,  and  the  party  now  leaves 
the  church  amid  loud  rejoicings.  In  front  of  the  princi- 
pal inn  on  the  village  green,  the  usual  "  pjrautlauf " 
(bride's  race)  is  held,  in  which  the  fleetest  runners 
among  the  invited  guests  participate.  The  distance  is 
about  four  hundred  yards,  and  the  goal  is  represented  by 
two  bundles  of  straw,  which  the   competitor  who    first 


272     GADDINGS  IViril  A    PRIMITH'E  PEOPLE. 

reaches  them  has  to  take  up  in  his  arms  and  carry  back 
to  the  bride. 

The  bride  then  enters  the  inn,  and  "  salts  the  cab- 
bage ;  "  after  which,  the  usual  heavy  meal  is  begun 
between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock,  and  is  followed  by 
the  dancing  and  the  "  Ehrengang  "  with  the  money  con- 
tribution as  already  described. 

In  the  Bavarian  valleys,  the  happy  couple  have  yet  to 
undergo  another  ordeal  before  they  can  take  their  depart- 
ure. The  musicians,  the  cook  and  her  attendants,  the 
maidservants,  and  in  fact  every  servant  in  the  house, 
must  be  presented  with  a  "  trinkgeld,"  or  douceur.  This 
is  done  in  a  comical  manner.  The  musicians,  for  in- 
stance, will  assemble  round  the  couple  and  begin  a  sere- 
nade ;  all  of  a  sudden  every  instrument  gets  out  of  tune, 
—  the  strings  creak,  the  flute  squeaks,  the  trombone  gives 
forth  a  discordant  roar,  and  so  on.  The  bridegroom  pro- 
duces a  small  piece  of  money,  but  the  caterwauling  con- 
tinues till  finally  he  satisfies  his  tormentors  with  a  couple 
of  broad  silver  florins.  The  cook  and  her  attendants 
present  broken  pots,  cracked  glasses,  and  smashed  pot- 
tery of  all  sorts,  while  the  housemaid  and  "  Kellnerin  " 
bring  up  the  rear  with  broken  brooms,  and  bundles  of 
rags.  Every  one  of  these  articles  must  be  "  mended  " 
by  a  handsome  douceur.  This  ceremony  is  the  last  of 
the  many  the  plagued  couple  have  undergone  in  the 
course  of  the  eventful  day.  They  are  now  free  to  depart 
for  their  home,  —  a  liberty  of  which,  as  we  may  suppose, 
they  are  not  slow  to  take  advantage. 

We  will  not  follow  them  on  their  homeward  walk,  along 
the  rippling  stream,  and  through  the  dark  gloomy  forest ; 
nor  will  we  listen  to  their  words,  intended  only  for  them- 
selves.    We  prefer  another  dance  or  two. 


A   ''KIRCHTAC  AND  EIFLE-MATCH.         273 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   TV'ROLESE   "  KIRCHTAG  "    AND    RIFLE-MATCH. 

UNLIKE  our  own  sports  —  cricket,  hunting,  and  horse- 
racing —  rifle-shooting  in  Tyrol  is  one  in  which  the 
poorest  native  can  participate.  The  fact  that  it  would  be 
diflicult  to  find  a  more  telling  illustration  of  the  tenacity 
to  old  customs  that  distinguishes  the  Tyrolese,  than  the 
quaint  and  humorous  manner  in  which  rifle-matches  are 
conducted,  renders  this  sport  doubly  interesting  to  the 
stranger  accustomed  to  see  it  conducted  in  a  business-like 
manner,  unrelieved  by  the  amusing  originality  that  marks 
its  pursuit  in  Tyrol. 

We  all  know  that  the  Tyi-olese  are  noted  for  their  skill 
at  rifle-shooting  ;  and  the  large  but  generally  uninteresting 
international  rifle-matches  which  have  been  held  of  late 
years  in  most  of  the  Continental  cities  have  proved  that 
the  Tyrolese,  as  long  as  they  are  permitted  to  compete 
with  their  own  rifles,  rank  among  the  best  Continental 
marksmen. 

It  is  not,  as  might  be  supposed,  at  large  assemblies  of 
marksmen,  that  an  observer  has  the  opportunity  of  wit- 
nessing the  quaint  by-play  to  which  w^e  have  alluded,  but 
rather  as  matches  in  the  remote  and  secluded  Alpine  glens, 
to  one  of  whicli,  the  Wildschonau  valley,  in  North  Tyrol, 
I  intend  asking  our  reader  to  accompany  me  on  a  fine 
October  day. 

A  long  and  tedious  tramp  of  four  hours  from  Ratten- 
berg,  a  small  townlet  at  the  foot  of  the  chain  of  mountains 
we  have  to  traverse  on  our  way  to  this  out-of-the-way 
nook,  has  brought  us  at  last  to  their  eminence.     Before 


2  74    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

us,  bathed  in  the  lovely  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  lies  an 
Alpine  valley,  terminating,  some  two  thousand  feet  higher 
up,  in  a  row  of  snow-clad  peaks,  while  broken  ridges  of 
somber  pine-clad  mountains  form  the  foreground  of  the 
open,  emerald-green  Alpine  mead  upon  which  our  goal, 
the  charming  little  village  of  Oberau,  is  situated. 

Its  amazingly  slender,  needle-shaped  church-spire,  rising 
as  if  to  rival  the  glistening  domes  of  Nature  in  the  back- 
ground, is  just  visible  over  groves  of  dark-green  trees,  be- 
tween which  peep  out  here  and  there  picturesque  Tyrolese 
cottages  of  velvety-brown  timber,  with  balconies  under 
the  eaves  of  the  broad,  projecting  roof,  garnished  with 
rows  of  bright-colored  flowers,  the  whole  picture  forming 
a  charming  contrast  to  the  gi^and  but  barren  impending 
peaks. 

Turning  our  backs  on  this  pleasant  scene,  and  looking 
once  more  down  to  the  sunny  stretch  of  the  Inn  valley  — 
our  starting-point  that  morning — some  four  or  five  thou- 
sand feet  below  us,  we  see  the  broad  silvery  band  of  the 
river,  innumerable  villages  scattered  about,  each  one 
clustering  round  a  sharp-pointed  church-spire,  gi-oves  of 
fruit-trees,  and  finally  a  straight  white  line,  drawn  by  the 
ruler,  —  the  path  of  that  omnipotent  harbinger  of  civiliza- 
tion, st^am. 

A  far-resounding  "jodel"  awakens  grotesque  echoes 
among  the  precipitous  slopes  of  the  little  glen  up  which 
we  have  just  climbed,  and  we  hasten  down  the  gentle 
incline  leading  to  our  destination. 

The  heavy,  cumbrous  rifle,  in  its  leather  sheath,  slung 
over  ray  shoulder,  and  the  gay  bunches  of  carnations  in 
my  hat  are,  in  the  eyes  of  two  comely  coifntry  lasses,  whose 
company  we  joined  a  iQ\yr  hundred  yards  before  reaching 
the  village  itself,  signs  investing  them  with  the  privilege 
of  making  us  the  butt  of  their  chaff. 

"  How  often  do  you  intend  missing  the  target?"  "Did 
your  mother  place  that  bunch  of  carnations  on  your  hat?  " 
this  being  the  prerogative  of  a  young  fellow's  sweetheart. 
"Will  you  promise  to  share  your  prizes  with  us?"  and 
finally,  alluding  to  the  weather-beaten  condition  of  my 


A   "  R'/RCHTAG"  AND  RIFLE-MATCH.         275 

short  leather  nethers,  they  hint  very  plainly  that  '•'a  chap 
visiting  a  strange  valley  on  the  'Kirchtag'  (the  great  fete- 
day  of  the  year)  might  don  his  best  Sunday  '  Gwandl ' 
(clothes)  ;  or  have  you,  perhaps,  none  ? "  they  contin- 
ue, while  with  laughing  faces  they  nudge  each  other,  and 
smile  appro\-ingly  ;  when,  stung  by  their  satire,  I  endeav- 
or to  retaliate  their  slander  by  a  bold  Schnaddahupfler 
in  which  I  embody,  as  well  as  I  can,  the  most  stinging 
criticism  of  the  female  sex  in  general,  and  of  our  two 
tormentors  in  ])articular. 

Presently  we  reach  the  village  inn,  a  cozy,  clean-looking 
house,  right  opposite  to  which  is  the  shooting-range,  decked 
out  with  gay  festoons  of  pine-branches,  and  surmounted  by 
a  large  black  and  yellow  flag  —  the  pride  of  the  village. 

The  church-bell  tolls  out  the  hour  of  nine,  and  the 
church,  crowded  to  excess  by  throngs  of  peasants,  begins 
to  empty  itself. 

The  "  Kirchtag,"  as  I  have  said,  is  the  grand  fete-day 
of  the  year  in  the  secluded  valleys  in  Tyrol.  Falling  in 
the  latter  half  of  October,  those  of  the  primitive  inhabit- 
ants of  the  vale  who  have  spent  the  six  spring  and  sum- 
mer months  high  up  on  the  Alps,  tending  their  cattle, 
making  butter  and  cheese,  felling  trees,  and  drifting  them 
down  to  their  village,  have  by  this  time  returned  from  their 
elevated  summer  residences.  Brother  and  sister,  father 
and  son,  mother  and  daughter,  the  lover  and  his  sweetheart, 
meet  again,  after  a  parting  of  nearly  half  a  year. 

Laughing  faces,  merry  jokes,  a  deal  of  hand-shaking, 
chaff,  and  fun,  are  to  be  seen  and  heard  around  us,  and 
betray  the  high  spirits  of  the  crowd,  which,  on  issuing 
from  the  church,  takes  its  stand  on  the  open  green  in 
front  of  the  sacred  edifice. 

For  the  next  half-hour  the  events  of  the  past  half-year 
are  eagerly  discussed.  While  one  peasant  is  engrossed  in 
a  tale  of  woe,  how  his  "  Glocknerin,"  or  bell-cow,  was 
killed  by  a  fall  down  a  precipice,  his  neighbor  relates  his 
piece  of  luck  in  selling  his  two  black  cows  at  a  remark- 
ably high  price,  "in  fact,"  as  he  said,  "making  a  clean 
forty  florins  (^4)  by  the  two." 


276    GAD  DINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Considering  tlie  man  Iiad  fed  and  tended  tliem  for  six 
months,  a  profit  of  two  pounds  per  Iiead  would  be  deemed 
very  insignificant  by  English  farmers,  who  in  the  same 
-space  of  time  would  probably  expect  to  reaUze  just  ten 
times  as  much. 

Strange  as  it  sounds,  Tyrolese  peasants  entertain  a 
great  aversion  to  black  cows,  and  they  are  quite  willing 
to  make  a  sacrifice  if  they  can  find  a  purchaser  for  them. 
Of  this  circumstance  the  foreign  cattle-dealers,  who  buy 
very  largely  in  Tyrol,  are  perfectly  aware,  and  by  keeping 
the  credulous  native  in  his  belief  of  the  inferiority  of 
black  cows,  they  succeed  in  realizing  much  larger  profits 
than  on  cattle  of  another  color. 

Business  discussed,  the  crowd  follows  the  one  or  two 
leaders  who  had  adjourned  to  the  inn  immediately  on 
leaving  church  ;  and  in  the  course  of  five  minutes  the 
spacious  bar-room,  furnished  Vi'ith  long  benches  and  pro- 
portionately long  tables,  is  filled  by  a  laughing  and  sing- 
ing throng  of  men,  eager  to  v/ash  down  the  dry  morning 
sermon  \vith  a  glass  of  beer  or  wine  ere  they  returned  to 
their  distant  homes. 

Most  of  the  women  have  gone  straight  home.  Our 
two  buxom  lady  friends  who  had  made  us  the  victims  of 
their  chaff  that  morning  were,  however,  among  the  more 
emancipated  '•"ho  deemed  their  sex  no  disqualification 
for  a  forenoon  "  drink ;  "  and  as  we  re-enter  the  bar-room, 
after  enjoying  a  hearty  breakfast  in  the  kitchen,  they 
proffer  us,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  their 
full  glasses. 

Sitting  down  at  their  side,  to  the  evident  annoyance  of 
their  lovers,  who  eye  us  askance  as  highly  suspicious  per- 
sonages, —  for  are  we  not  strangers  to  them,  and  appar- 
ently poaching  upon  their  preserves  ?  —  we  are  soon 
engaged  in  a  fierce  battle  of  pointed  jokes,  and  returning 
a  heavy  cross-fire  of  sarcastic  raillery,  in  which  very 
shordy  our  sullen  neighbors,  drawn  on  by  the  spirit  of 
the  gay  damsels,  are  not  loth  to  join.  Nobody  is  spared  ; 
but  the  tone  of  good-humored  hilarity  that  reigns  over  the 
company  heals  instantaneously  the  wound  inflicted  by  the 
sharp  arrov,'  of  personal  raillery. 


A    '^  A'/JiCHTAG"   AXD   RIFLE-MATCH.  277 

Blow  for  blow,  chaff  for  chaff;  the  harder  you  hit, 
provided  you  keep  within  certain  bounds,  the  more  your 
company  is  appreciated.  Be  your  coat  of  the  finest,  and 
your  manners  the  most  elegant,  you  will  find,  unless  you 
can  hold  your  own  in  the  duel  of  chaff  which  you  have 
challenged,  no  pity  at  the  hands  of  your  neighbor,  the 
poorly-clad  woodcutter. 

In  the  more  secluded  valleys  fairs  are  usually  held  on 
the  "  Kirchtag,"  for  it  must  be  remembered  there  are  no 
shops  or  stores  of  any  kind  where  the  necessary  house- 
hold goods  can  be  purchased.  The  "  Kirchtag  "  is  tliere- 
fore  the  gi'and  day  of  purchase  for  these  primitive  people, 
who  hardly  ever  leave  their  secluded  homes,  and  have, 
therefore,  no  other  opportunity  to  supply  themselves  with 
those  necessaries  of  life  that  are  not  produced  at  home. 

P'ortunately,  fashion  in  Tyrol  is  not  subject  to  the 
strange,  not  to  say  fantastic,  changes  before  which  we 
civilized  beings  bow  down  and  worship.  The  stout  frieze 
bought  by  the  ancestors  of  the  present  generation  has 
remained  the  same  in  texture  and  color.  The  blue  cot- 
ton stuff  that  made  up  the  Sunday  best  gown  of  the 
great-grandmother  is  still  the  fashion  with  her  little  gi'and- 
children  ;  the  very  same  caps  of  fur  trimmed  with  velvet, 
worn  by  the  mothers  of  the  heroes  who  helped  Marl- 
borough to  vanquish  the  French,  are  nowadays  still  the 
treasure  of  the  rural  belle. 

Let  us  approach  one  of  the  dozen  or  so  of  wooden 
sheds  run  up  of  light  unplaned  planks,  rather  more  with 
the  view  of  examining  the  contents  of  the  primitive  shop, 
than  with  the  intention  of  purchasing  any  of  the  wares 
exhibited  therein. 

We  find  that  a  strange  medley  of  articles  are  thrown 
together  higgledy-piggledy.  A  huge  iron  caldron,  of  the 
shape  used  on  Alps  for  manufacturing  cheese,  is  turned 
into  a  receptacle  for  sundry  articles  of  apparel.  Gay 
ribbons  of  fine  texture  but  of  the  most  flaring  hue, 
colored  pocket-handkerchiefs  of  sheet-like  proportions, 
having  painted  on  tlicm  bird's-eye  views  of  some  cele- 
brated  place   of  pilgrimage   or  of   some   sacred   shrine 


278    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

endowed  in  the  minds  of  the  simple  people  with  miracu- 
lous powers,  piles  of  rosaries,  dozens  upon  dozens  of 
small  metal  crosses,  charms  to  be  worn  round  the  neck, 
glass  beads  enough  to  delight  a  whole  tribe  of  Mr.  Stan- 
ley's African  friends,  —  these  and  a  host  of  other  articles, 
too  numerous  to  be  enumerated,  are  stored  away  in  the 
spacious,  brightly-polished  caldron. 

Next  to  it  we  see  parcels  of  various  implements  for 
domestic  as  well  as  agricultural  use.  The  tailor's  scissors, 
the  cobbler's  hammer,  bradawls,  plowshares,  pickaxes, 
ax-heads,  nails  of  all  sizes,  cradle-saws,  small  saws,  large 
saws,  wooden  cooking  utensils,  parcels  of  red  and  green 
suspenders,  piles  of  rough  gray  frieze,  and  rolls  of  coarse 
homespun  linen,  cover  the  primitive  counter ;  while  above 
it,  hung  on  the  poles  that  serve  as  rafters  for  the  support 
of  the  primitive  roofing,  are  exhibited  gaudy  silk  necker- 
chiefs, scarfs,  and  gray  and  green  felt  hats,  with  gold  and 
silver  tassels,  for  the  women.  Underneath  the  counter 
are  chests  filled  with  boots  and  shoes  of  the  roughest 
make,  the  leather  being  in  an  untanned  state. 

In  the  next  shed,  a  "  Herrgottmacher "  (Lord-God- 
maker,  as  the  literal  translation  would  be)  is  exhibiting 
his  wares,  consisting,  as  the  name  implies,  of  images  in 
various  sizes  carved  in  wood,  representing,  one  and  all, 
our  Saviour  on  the  cross.  He  has  made  them  all  himself. 
The  gnarled  old  Zirbentree  {pinus  ceinnbra),  occupying 
the  very  outskirts  of  vegetation  high  up  on  the  Alps,  was 
felled  by  his  own  hand,  cut  up  and  dragged  down  to  his 
lonely  cottage  by  his  wife  and  children  ;  and  when,  after 
being  duly  seasoned,  the  blocks  were  ready  for  the  saw, 
his  knife  and  paint-brush  metamorphosed  them  into  the 
rows  of  "  Saviours  on  the  cross,"  in  all  sizes,  we  see 
before  us. 

It  is  true  that  the  same  ghastly  expression  is  stamped 
upon  all  the  faces  :  the  same  weird,  emaciated  body,  the 
same  deformed  position  of  arms  and  legs,  calling  forth  an 
involuntary  shudder,  is  common  to  every  one,  be  the  fig- 
ure a  miniature  one  hardly  a  couple  of  inches  in  length, 
or  be  it  a  life-size  representation  of  our  Lord.     The  sim- 


A    ''  KIRCHTAC  AND   KIFLE-MATCH.         279 

pie-minded  artist  has  made  hundreds  of  dozens  in  his  life, 
and  it  is  not  surprising  that  his  imagination  has  long  given 
out,  and  his  labor  is  reduced  to  a  mere  mechanical  appli- 
cation of  his  knife  and  bnish. 

His  stall  is  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  pious  natives,  all 
eager  to  examine  and  admire  the  holy  wares.  The  ex- 
pression of  the  face,  the  position  of  the  body  and  the 
wounds,  if  they  are  represented  sufficiently  ghastly  for 
their  taste  or  not,  is  criticised ;  and  finally,  when  a  partic- 
ularly "  fine  "  image  has  been  selected,  and  they  think 
that  its  price  will  suit  their  purse,  the  artist  dealer,  who  has 
been  looking  on  in  stoical  indifference  at  the  crowd  criti- 
cising his  w-ares,  is  asked  the  cost.  After  several  minutes 
of  haggling,  the  peasant  produces  his  money,  takes  his 
figure,  maybe  a  "  Christ "  some  two  or  three  feet  long, 
under  his  arm,  or  stows  it  away  in  the  ample  folds  of  his 
"  Rucksack,"  with  its  head  adorned  with  the  usual  crowai 
of  thorns  sticking  out,  and  marches  off  to  complete  his 
purchases  prior  to  his  return  home. 

And  what  does  a  "Christ"  cost?  You  may  get  one 
for  twopence,  and  you  may  actually  spend  a  pound  on  a 
life-size  figure.  The  latter,  however,  are  usually  pur- 
chased by  priests  only,  who  want  them  for  decorating  the 
interior  of  their  churches,  or  for  the  village  cemetery. 

The  figures  bought  most  commonly  by  the  peasants  are 
from  one  to  two  and  a  half  feet  high,  and  cost  from  six- 
pence to  five  shillings.  If  you  ask  the  purchaser  where 
he  will  put  the  sacred  image,  he  will  most  probably  tell 
you,  in  the  comer  of  his  li\ing-room,  right  over  the  table, 
where  he  and  his  family  and  his  servants  meet  at  meal- 
times. "  That  figure  has  such  a  painful  expression,  it  is 
really  beautiful,"  he  will  add,  and  perhaps  he  will  inform 
you  that  the  "  Christ  "  that  hilhcrto  occupied  that  hon- 
ored position  will  henceforth  grace  the  doorway  of  his 
Alp-hut,  or  mark  the  spot  where  one  of  his  "  Knechte  " 
(male  servant)  was  accidentally  killed  by  a  falUng  tree 
some  years  ago,  and  which  spot  was  hitherto  but  marked 
by  a  votive  tablet.  "  No  doubt  the  poor  wretch's  soul 
will  enjoy  a  little  respite  in  hell  by  that  pious  gift,"  the 


28o      GADDf.VGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

superstitious  peasant  adds,  and  rejoices  within  himself 
that  the  exceptionally  favorable  sale  of  his  cow  enabled 
him  to  spend  a  shilling  or  two  for  the  devout  purpose. 

These  Tyrolese  carvers  are,  generally  speaking,  in  a 
mild  way,  great  humbugs.  Women,  particularly  old 
maids,  addicted  to  piety,  —  the  German  nickname  calls 
them  "  Betsch western,"  —  fall  easy  victims  to  the  glib 
tongue  of  most  "  Herrgottmachers."  Among  them  are 
certain  men  that  enjoy  the  reputation  of  being  surrounded 
by  a  halo  of  miraculous  power.  The  man  before  us  is 
one,  and  ten  words  spoken  by  him  in  praise  of  a  "Christ  " 
convince  more  old  women  of  the  emphatic  necessity  of 
purchasing  a  third  or  fourth  graven  representation  of  our 
Lord  than  thousands  of  words  spoken  by  others  of  his 
calling. 

But  how  did  he  gain  his  renown?  That  evening  an 
acquaintance  of  mine,  the  liberal-minded  doctor  of  Wor- 
gel,  the  next  village  in  the  Inn  valley,  who  had  come  up 
to  attend  a  patient,  told  me  the  man's  story.  One  night, 
some  ten  or  twelve  years  ago,  this  dealer  in  art  and  hum- 
bug was  returning  from  a  fair  in  the  company  of  a  couple 
of  convivial  spirits.  The  liquor  they  had  drunk  and  the 
pitchy  dark  night,  no  less  than  the  dangerous  nature  of 
the  path,  were  too  much  for  our  party,  and  our  hero  was 
pitched  down  a  precipice  more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  depth. 

Fortunately  for  him,  he  had  at  the  time  his  huge  v/icker 
basket  filled  with  his  usual  stock-in-trade,  hundreds  of 
"Christs,"  on  his  back;  and,  wonderful  to  say,  his  fearful 
fall  was  so  broken  by  pitching  back  foremost  from  the 
hard  rocks,  that  he  soon  could  arise  not  much  the  worse 
for  his  fall.  His  business-like  mind,  however,  saw  in  the 
miraculous  escape  he  had  just  had  a  heavenly  omen  por- 
tending great  renown  for  him,  and  the  bright  idea  flashed 
across  it  to  turn  his  accident  to  account.  He  emptied 
his  basket  of  its  contents,  and,  placing  the  "Christs"  in 
rows  on  the  ground,  lay  down  in  the  midst  of  them,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  was  asleep. 

His  companions  in  the  mean  while,  shocked  beyond 


A    ''  KIRCH  TAG''  AND  RIFLE-MATCH.         2oi 

measure  at  the  terrible  fate  of  their  companion,  hastened 
back  to  the  distant  village  to  fetch  lights  and  assistance, 
never  once  hoping  to  lind  him  alive.  What  was  their 
astonishment,  therefore,  when  they  returned  after  three 
or  four  hours,  to  find  him  peacefully  asleep  in  the  midst 
of  his  sacred  images  ! 

The  men  who  had  accompanied  them  would  not  believe 
it  at  first ;  but  the  fact  of  our  hero's  hat  being  discovered, 
when  morning  broke,  hanging  on  a  bush  half  way  up  the 
precipice,  convinced  them  of  the  truth. 

"That  was  the  making  of  him,"  added  our  informant, 
laughingly  ;  "  since  then  he  has  the  odor  of  sanctity  hang- 
ing around  him,  and,  were  it  not  for  his  partiality  for 
drink,  he  would  be  a  rich  man  by  this  time." 

My  informant  refused  to  tell  us  how  he  had  come  by 
the  accurate  information  he  possessed  ;  but  we  heard  some 
time  afterwards  that  he  had  attended  our  hero  through  a 
very  severe  attack  of  D.  T.,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
most  likely  made  him  his  confidant. 

The  crowd  is  thinning  rapidly,  for  by  far  the  greater 
part  have  a  long  walk  homewards  before  them,  and  they 
have  been  on  their  legs  since  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  ; 
for  we  must  remember  that  these  early-rising  people  count 
the  day  as  half  over  by  nine  o'clock,  and  hence  the  busi- 
est time  at  a  fair  is  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

The  village  church  bells  toll  twelve  o'clock  ;  and  hardly 
has  the  last  stroke  resounded,  when  a  thundering  salvo  of 
poller-shots  announce  the  commencement  of  the  rifle- 
match.  A  "  Kirchtag  "  without  rifle-shooting  would  be 
something  like  Christmas  without  a  plum-pudding  with  us. 

The  rifle-range,  we  have  said,  was  situated  opposite  the 
inn,  .and  so  after  partaking  of  some  solid  refreshment  as  a 
lunch,  or  rather  as  an  early  dinner,  we  step  across  the  road 
and  enter  tlie  range.  It  is  a  low  narrow  timber-built  hut, 
provided  with  a  long  table  in  the  center,  at  which  the 
marksmen  load,  and  with  three  boxes  or  partitions  open 
in  front,  taking  up  tlie  side  of  the  hut  towards  the  targets. 
The  center  box  is  reserved  for  the  "schreiber  "  or  score- 
keeper,  the  two  others  are  for  the  marksmen  to  fire  from. 


282     GADDJNGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

The  targets  are  placed  at  a  distance  of  150  yards.  They 
have  already  been  described  on  p.  239. 

Our  readers,  though  they  may  understand  nothing  of 
rifle-shooting,  will  nevertheless  become  aware  of  the  sur- 
prising accuracy  of  Tyrolese  marksmen,  when  we  mention 
that  we  have  seen  the  pin's  head  shot  away  six  and  seven 
times  in  the  course  of  one  day's  match,  and  that  we  have 
known  as  many  as  five  consecutive  marksmen  taken  at 
hap-hazard,  firing  one  after  the  other,  to  hit  each  a  mark 
of  the  size  of  a  sixpence,  at  a  distance  of  150  yards. 
Considering  that  the  marksman  may  not  support  any  part 
of  his  body  or  his  rifle,  but  has  to  stand  free,  holding  the 
heavy  rifle  in  his  outstretched  arm,  feats  like  this  are  won- 
derful. 

I  remember  once  leading  a  friend  into  a  shooting-range 
in  North  T}to1.  A  stranger  to  Tyrol,  he  entertained  a 
prejudice  against  rifle-practice,  notifying  his  dislike  with 
the  observation  "  that  it  was  simply  a  waste  of  powder  and 
lead,  and  that  if  it  came  to  trying  the  steadiness  of  one's 
hand,  a  much  simpler  test  could  be  furnished  on  scientific 
principles."  He  watched  some  of  the  peasant  marksmen 
closely,  and  told  me  afterwards,  that,  had  he  not  seen  it 
with  his  own  eyes,  he  would  never  have  believed  that 
human  muscles  and  nerves  could  remain  so  rigid,  and 
apparently  motionless,  as  some  of  these  men's.  He  left 
the  booth  an  ardent  admirer  of  Tyrolean  rifle-matches. 

The  "  zieler,"  or  marker,  who  is  stationed  at  the  target, 
and  has  to  plug  each  shot-hole,  is  an  important  personage. 
Attired  in  a  jacket  of  checkered  colors,  wide  baglike  pan- 
taloons, of  two  colors  generally,  —  one  leg  red,  the  other 
white,  —  while  a  huge  felt  cone,  adorned  at  the  top  with 
a  bunch  of  many-colored  ribbons,  serves  him  as  a  hat,  he 
cuts  a  highly  comic  figure.  In  his  hand  he  holds'  his 
''spoon,"  a  short  stick,  at  the  end  of  which  a  disk  about 
the  size  of  a  saucer  is  fastened.  One  side  of  the  latter  is 
white,  the  other  black.  This  instrument  is  used  to  indi- 
cate the  exact  position  of  each  shot  to  the  marksman, 
anxious  to  see  where  his  ball  has  hit.  If  the  shot  lias  hit 
"  black,"  —  the  bull's-eye,  —  the  white  side  j  if  outside  of 


A    ''A-JRCHTAG"   AND   RIFLE-MATCH.  283 

the  black,  the  black  side  of  the  spoon  is  turned  towards 
the  range.  In  the  former  case,  the  number  of  the  ring 
or  circle  within  the  bull's-eye,  which  has  been  hit,  is  indi- 
cated by  a  series  of  preconcerted  signs  by  the  "  zieler," 
thus  obviating  the  necessity  of  having  a  telegraphic  com- 
munication, a  contri\'ance  entirely  unknown  at  Tyrolese 
rifle-ranges.  If  the  number  three  ring,  having  a  diameter 
of  less  than  two  inches,  is  hit,  the  "  zieler"  dances,  that 
is,  he  jumps  once  round  the  target,  accompanying  this 
performance  with  a  "jodler,"  If  it  is  the  number  four 
ring,  —  the  size  of  a  sixpence,  —  which  the  lucky  marks- 
man has  hit,  the  "  zieler"  exhibits  frantic  excitement. 

On  perceiving  the  position  of  the  shot,  he  will  crouch 
down,  and  creep,  clown-like,  back  to  his  hut  some  paces 
off,  to  fetch  his  "spectacles."  These  are  huge  imitation 
spectacles  of  wood ;  and,  with  them  fastened  to  his  head 
by  a  string,  he  issues  forth  to  assure  himself,  as  it  were, 
if  the  shot  is  really  a  "  four,"  the  whole  performance  be- 
ing of  course  only  a  farce,  enacted  so  as  to  prolong  the 
pleasant  excitement  of  the  marksman  ;  a  couple  of  joyous 
"  jodlers,"  two  dances  round  the  target,  and  other  not  the 
less  comic  evolutions,  bring  his  pranks  to  a  close. 

A  "centrum  "  shot  is  foUowecl  by  a  series  of  the  above 
antics  in  an  exaggerated  degree;  if  the  "zieler"  is  an 
agile  youth,  we  have  seen  him  reach  the  shooting-range 
by  a  succession  of  the  most  extraordinary  summersaults, 
holding  all  the  time  the  bull's-eye,  which  can  be  detached 
from  the  board,  in  his  hand.  A  quart  of  wine,  or  half  a 
pint  of  strong  schnapps,  arc  invariably  the  reward  given 
by  the  happy  marksman  to  that  most  abused  of  mortals, 
the  "zieler."  I  say  "most  abused  of  mortals,"  with  good 
cause,  for,  with  the  innate  injustice  peculiar  to  the  human 
race  when  failure  has  attended  its  endeavors,  a  bad  shot 
is  laid  to  the  door  of  the  unfortunate  marker. 

"Won't  he  dance?  I'll  make  him  fetch  his  spectacles, 
the  infernal  rascal !  marking  my  shot  two  inches  short ! 
d — n  him  !  "  or  when  an  unlucky  marksman,  jealous  of 
his  luckier  neighbor,  who  has  sent  a  quart  of  wine  to  the 
"zieler"  in  consequence  of  a  "centrum  shot,"  he  will 
exclaim  angrily,  — 


284     CADDINGS    WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

"  As  if  the  man  were  not  tipsy  enough  !  Now  he  will 
be  quite  blind  with  liquor ;  "  and  grumblingly  adds,  "  Of 
course  he  won't  find  my  bullet-hole  !  " 

These  and  a  host  of  other  ejaculations  of  anger,  often 
of  a  worse  kind,  are  constantly  to  be  heard  from  marks- 
men, who  in  the  heat  of  the  moment  blame  the  marker 
for  the  effects  of  that  last  glass  of  brandy,  or  for  that 
most  minute,  but  yet  in  its  result  very  perceptible,  un- 
steadiness of  the  hand,  or  for  the  decreasing  keenness 
of  the  eye. 

Hundreds  of  excuses  there  are  besides,  in  which  an 
indifferent  shot  will  take  refuge,  to  explain  to  his  mali- 
ciously smiling  neighbor  that  it  was  not  his  fault  that  he 
missed  the  bull's-eye  :  everybody  and  every  thing  is  to 
blame  rather  than  he  himself  "  That  infernal  wind,  just 
blowing  its  strongest  when  I  fired  ;  "  "I  told  you  I  would 
niiss  it,  I  followed  your  advice  of  aiming  more  to  the 
right;  "  "There  !  look  at  that  shot,  just  three  inches  too 
short  —  that  beastly  powder  is  getting  worse  every  day  ;  " 
"  that  dunce  of  a  zieler  must  have  overlooked  my  shot- 
hole."  Now  the  wind  is  blowing  from  the  wrong  direc- 
tion, now  it  depresses,  then  again  it  elevates,  the  bullet's 
flight.  Now  it  is  the  bad  liquor  which  makes  his  hand 
shake  ;  then  again  the  daylight  is  delusive,  bringing  out 
the  target  in  too  strong  a  light,  now  leaving  it  in  darkness 
when  an  inopportune  cloud  obscures  the  sun.  His  per- 
sonal bad  luck  comes  in  for  its  share  of  blame  too  :  "why 
did  I  come?"  while,  if  the  truth  were  known,  naught 
but  his  own  wish  influenced  him.  His  wife  would  have 
gladly  seen  him  stop  at  home,  rather  than  know  him  risk 
his  hardly-earned  money  in  competing  with  numbers  of 
better  rifle-shots  than  he  is. 

Let  us  look  about  us  in  the  shooting-range.  More 
than  a  dozen  strapping  young  fellows  have  arrived  before 
us.  Their  hats,  decorated  with  bunches  of  carnations, 
set  jauntily  on  one  side  of  their  heads,  their  picturesque 
national  costume,  and  the  gay  "jodel"  which  now  and 
again  breaks  forth  from  a  lucky  marksman,  all  unite  in 
producing  a  charming  enseynble.     Here  in  a  corner  two 


A    "A'/RCJn\W   AXD   RIFLE-MATCH.  285 

or  three  are  loading  their  rifles ;  there  a  couple  are  en- 
gaged in  an  earnest  consultation  as  to  the  exact  effect  of 
the  wind  :  ''was  it  blowing  from  right  to  left,"  —  cast  and 
west  are  expressions  unknown  to  them,  — "  or  was  it 
blowing  steadily  from  the  hills,"  and  thus,  instead  of 
effecting  the  ball's  flight  from  right  to  left,  depressing  it? 
The  majority  of  those  present  are,  however,  clustering 
round  the  three  partitions  the  use  of  which  we  have  men- 
tioned already. 

Let  us  watch  for  a  moment  that  young  fellow,  whom, 
nodding  to  us  as  he  takes  up  his  rifle,  we  recognize  as 
one  of  our  two  fair  tormentors'  most  assiduous  swains. 

Glancing  at  the  sheet  in  front  of  the  score-keeper,  we 
see  that  he  has  a  number  "  three "  and  a  couple  of 
"  two's  "  to  his  score. 

Standing  like  a  statue  of  bronze  in  his  little  partition, 
his  broad  back  turned  towards  us,  we  have  a  capital 
opportunity  to  watch  the  steadiness  of  his  aim.  Once 
at  his  shoulder,  the  rifle  remains  as  if  fastened  in  a  vise 
—  no  tremor,  no  budging  whatever;  a  slight  click  tells 
us  that  he  has  set  the  hair-trigger ;  half  a  second  later  the 
sharp  crack  rings  out  into  the  crisp  air. 

"  Black  it  must  be  !  "  he  says,  as  he  lowers  his  rifle  ; 
and  we  have  little  cause  to  doubt  his  assertion,  if  perfect 
steadiness  of  hand  be  a  fair  criterion.  The  "zieler"  is  at 
the  target ;  all  of  a  sudden  vv^e  see  him  crouch  down, 
while  with  his  cap  drawn  over  his  eyes  he  crawls  back  to 
his  hut,  emerging  from  it  with  his  spectacles  that  hide 
his  whole  face.  Approaching  the  target,  he  wags  his 
head,  and  imitates  the  movements  of  a  short-sighted  per- 
son looking  intently  at  something ;  finally,  after  spending 
a  minute  or  two  in  this  make-believe  examination  of  the 
target,  he  suddenly  leaps  up,  and  a  piercing  jodler  tells 
us  that  he  is  on  the  track  of  the  bullet.  "  A  centrum,  by 
Jove  1  "  exclaims  the  excited  crowd  ;  and  so  it  is,  for  by 
a  succession  of  wild  leaps  the  "  zieler  "  has  reached  the 
small  flag,  stuck  in  the  ground  in  front  of  the  hut  to  indi- 
cate to  the  marksman  the  direction  and  force  of  the  wind, 
wrenches  it  out  of  the  ground,  and  runs  back  to  the  tar- 
get with  it  in  his  hand. 


2  86     GADDTNGS   WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

A  smile  of  satisfaction  and  pleasure  has  settled  upon 
the  face  of  the  lucky  marksman ;  the  score-keeper  who 
sits  at  his  elbow,  and  who  has  been  watching  the  capers 
of  the  "zieler,"  proffers  him  his  full  bottle  of  wine,  and 
adds  his  congratulation  to  those  of  the  other  young  fel- 
lows crowding  round  their  lucky  companion. 

"The  first  centrum  that  day!"  He  hopes  it  may  be 
the  last  one  too  ;  for  does  it  not  entitle  him  to  that  lovely 
blue  and  red  silk  pocket-handkerchief  of  gigantic  dimen- 
sions, which,  together  with  seven  or  eight  minor  prizes,  is 
hanging  on  a  board  right  over  the  scorekeeper's  head? 
"  Won't  the  six  silver  florin-pieces  which  adorn  it  —  the 
first  prize — be  jolly?  He  and  his  girl  will  be  able  to 
dance  as  often  as  they  like  that  evening ;  and  won't  she, 
the  belle  of  the  village,  be  proud  to  see  her  lover's  hat 
adorned  with  its  gaudy  folds,  after  the  shooting-match  is 
over?  What  lover's  request  will  he  tag  on  to  the  presen- 
tation of  that  resplendent  silk  handkerchief,  when,  in  the 
small  hours  of  the  morning,  he  and  his  '  Gretl '  are  re- 
turning to  their  homes?  " 

All  this,  and  more  perhaps,  passes  through  his  head,  as 
he  retires  to  the  corner  to  load  his  rifle  afresh. 

Alas  !  his  hopes  are  destined  to  be  rudely  shaken  ;  for 
who  should  make  their  quite  unexpected  appearance, 
but  two  noted  "  Raubers  !  "  This  word  means  no  less 
than  robbers  ;  and  in  this  instance  it  is  applied  to  the  very 
best  shots  of  the  country,  who,  on  account  of  their  un- 
erring marksmanship,  are  dreaded  competitors,  carrying 
off  generally  the  first  prizes  in  each  match. 

They  travel  from  village  to  village,  cross  mountains, 
and  find  no  distance  too  great  if  it  comes  within  the 
scope  of  a  stout  pair  of  legs  in  a  day's  or  even  two  days' 
march.  As  long  as  their  hand  retains  its  amazing  steadi- 
■  ness,  and  their  eye  its  keenness,  they  live  by  rifle-shoot- 
ing. Hundreds  of  prizes,  stripped,  however,  of  the  gold 
or  silver  pieces  that  once  adorned  the  gaudy  handker- 
chief of  silk,  the  bright  ribbon,  or  the  bunch  of  gayly- 
colored  artificial  flowers  which  are  hidden  away  in  their 
cottages,  attest  the  remarkable  skill  of  these  men. 


A   "  KIRCHTAG"  AND  RIFLE-MATCH.         287 

No  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  unexpected  appearance 
of  two  very  noted  robbers  at  a  match  in  a  sechided  httle 
valley  was  more  than  unwelcome  to  the  native  marks- 
men, each  eager  to  carry  off  a  prize  himself  But  there 
was  no  help  :  a  "  Freischiessen  "  — that  is,  a  match  open 
to  all  comers  —  it  was,  and  they  had  grumblingly  to 
ascribe  it  to  their  bad  luck,  that  these  men  had  heard  of 
the  match,  and,  though  the  amount  of  the  prizes  was  in 
reality  insignificant,  had  taken  the  trouble  to  cross  moun- 
tains and  valleys  to  reach  the  place  in  good  time. 

Together  with  them  arrived  three  portly,  jolly-looking 
country  priests,  each  carrying  his  rifle  in  approved  fash- 
ion. 

It  is  a  strange  sight  to  see  priests,  dressed  in  their 
canonical  garb,  handling  rifles,  and  shooting  with  an 
activity  unsurpassed  by  the  peasants  themselves.  Some 
of  them  are  by  no  means  bad  shots ;  in  fact,  there  is  a 
large  monastery  in  Oberinnthal  (Stams),  boasting  of  sev- 
eral excellent  shots  among  its  becowled  inhabitants. 

Strange  to  say,  the  peasants  delight  to  see  their  village 
priest  compete  with  them  at  the  rifle-range,  and  it  is 
quite  a  matter  of  jealous  rivalry  for  the  villages  in  the 
larger  valleys  to  be  the  possessor  of  the  best  clerical  shot. 
Though  these  sporting  priests  put  themselves  on  an  equal 
footing  with  the  rest  of  the  company  while  shooting,  the 
peasants  rarely  forget  their  presence  ;  and  if  a  hasty  oath 
at  a  piece  of  exceptionally  bad  luck  does  escape  the  lips 
of  one,  he  will  turn  round  quickl)-,  with  his  hand  up  to 
his  mouth,  as  if  he  intended  to  wipe  away  from  his  lips 
the  wicked  words  that  escaped  them,  and  assure  himself 
that  they  were  not  heard  by  his  spiritual  counselor. 

While  the  peasant  does  not  forget  that  he  is  in  the 
presence  of  his  priest,  the  latter  likewise  remembers  what 
is  due  to  his  position  as  a  man  of  God ;  and  you  will 
often  see  one  of  these  black-coated  and  top-booted 
competitors  praying  his  rosary  to  himself,  or  reading  his 
breviary,  while  he  is  waiting  for  his  turn  to  shoot. 

The  man  before  him  has  shot,  the  marker  has  made 
his  capers,  and  it  is  his  turn  to  step  into  the  box  from 


288     GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

whence  he  is  to  fire.  The  book  of  hours,  the  prayer- 
book,  or  the  rosary  disappears  in  one  of  the  ample  pock- 
ets, and  the  man  of  God  takes  up  his  rifle,  and  steps 
into  the  Httle  den,  no  longer  a  priest,  but  rather  a  marks- 
man passionately  fond  of  the  sport. 

Of  course,  rifle-shooting  priests  are  the  exception  in 
Tyrol,  but  I  have  always  found  that  they  are  general 
favorites  among  their  flocks. 

Unfortunately,  there  are  only  too  many  valleys  and 
districts  in  fair  Tyrol  where  the  spirit  of  the  population  is 
broken  by  the  austere  rule  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church, 
centered  as  that  rule  is  in  the  hands  of  rank  Jesuits. 


A    VISIT  TO  A   FEASANT   WATERING-PLACE.      289 


CmVPTER    XVI. 

A   VISIT   TO    A    T\ROLESE   PEAS/VNT   WATERING-PLACE. 

HAVING  passed  a  day  with  my  readers  at  a  Tyrolese 
"  Kirchtag,"  I  now  propose  asking  them  to  join  me 
on  a  trip  to  a  scene  equally  favorable  to  the  study  of  the 
quaint  sayings  and  doings  of  the  T\Tolese  peasantry, 
namely,  a  genuine  peasant  watering-place  ;  and  for  this 
purpose,  though  I  know  it  to  be  a  most  preposterous 
request,  I  boldly  invite  them  to  accompany  me  in  a 
third-class  compartment  on  the  recently-constructed  rail- 
way through  the  Pusterthal,  one  of  the  chief  Tyrolese 
valleys. 

We  can  enjoy  a  good  view  of  the  grand  landscape,  of 
the  verdant  hillsides  and  wooded  mountain-slopes,  along 
which  our  train  is  slovdy  creeping  towards  the  remote 
little  station,  from  whence  a  bridle-path  and  stout  legs 
will  in  three  short  hours   bring  us    to    our  goal,  —  the 

primitive  little  watering-place  of  S ,  hid  away  among 

Alpine  fastnesses,  at  the  extremity  of  one  of  the  small  and 
very  steep  Alpine  glens  branching  off  from  the  above- 
mentioned  mother  valley. 

Traveling  in  Tyrol  in  third-class  cannages  has  its  good 
and  its  bad  points.  Jostling  you  up  into  your  corner  is 
a  weather-beaten  young  fellow  of  gigantic  proportions. 
His  short  leather  trousers  are  old,  and  patched  in  so 
many  places  that  scarce  any  of  the  original  hide  can  be 
distinguished.  His  bare  knees  are  of  a  mahogany  hue, 
and  are  as  scarred  and  scratched  as  his  breeches  are 
patched. 

His  bare  feet  are  stuck  into  huge  shoes  of  formidable 


2r)0    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

weight.  The  weather  being  hot,  he  is  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
his  coat  hanging  jauntily  over  his  right  shoulder.  The 
shirt,  open  in  front,  gives  you  the  opportunity  to  glance 
at  his  magnificently-built  chest  and  breadth  of  shoulder, 
both  of  Herculean  cast.  The  healthy  complexion  of  a 
ruddy  brown,  his  sparkling  eyes,  his  glistening  white 
teeth,  and,  above  all,  the  torn  and  battered  old  hat, 
adorned  with  the  inevitable  blackcock  feathers,  set  jaunti- 
ly on  one  side  of  his  well-shapen  head,  betray  the  genu- 
ine son  of  the  mountains. 

There  is  something  noble  and  manly  about  these  fellows, 
though  their  exterior  be  more  like  that  of  a  footpad  in 
come-down  circumstances.  The  firm,  tread,  the  upright 
bearing,  the  keen  glance,  the  fearless  eyes,  and,  above 
all,  the  manly  self-assurance  betrayed  by  each  gesture, 
tell  of  the  splendid  stuff  they  are  made  of. 

Between  his  legs  he  holds  a  large  cradle-saw  some  four 
feet  long,  and  a  bright,  glistening  ax,  round  the  head  of 
which  are  slung  a  pair  of  enormous  crampons,  polished 
to  a  silvery  brightness  by  constant  use.  These  imple- 
ments tell  us  his  vocation  at  a  glance. 

He  is  a  woodcutter,  fresh  from  the  mountains.  It  is 
Saturday  afternoon ;  and  after  a  six- weeks'  spell  of  hard 
work  clearing  some  gloomy  old  forest  situated  some  three 
or  four  thousand  feet  over  the  valley,  on  the  impending 
slopes  of  a  peak,  he  is  about  to  return  to  his  home,  to  his 
wife  and  child  maybe,  or  to  his  coy  sweetheart. 

He  will  tell  you  presently  he  has  never  traveled  on  a 
railway  before,  for  the  route  on  which  we  are  traveling 
has  been  quite  recently  opened.  Every  thing  is  new  to 
him.  His  bright  eyes  are  turned  here  and  there  as  if 
seeking  to  unravel  the  supreme  mystery  of  that  marvel- 
ous power  able  to  propel  heavy  cars  filled  with  people, 
cattle,  and  goods,  at  twice  the  pace  the  fastest  horse  he 
has  ever  seen  could  travel. 

He  scratches  his  head,  and  a  look  of  bewildered  curi- 
osity steals  over  his  face  ;  for  there  is  nothing  about  the 
newly-varnished  seats  and  walls,  nor,  as  far  as  he  can  dis- 
cover, about  the  freshly-painted  outside  of  the  car,  that 
gives  him  a  clew. 


A    VISIT  TO  A   PEASANT  WATERING-PLACE.      291 

He  sits  lost  in  a  maze  of  thought.  He  can  see  no 
horses  pulHng,  no  machinery,  and  yet  the  heavy  train  is 
going  along  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"Ah!"  thinlcs  he  to  himself,  "maybe  the  priest  was 
right,  after  all ;  it  is  the  Devil's  work,  and  nothing  else. 
What  fools  we  all  were  to  be  enticed  by  the  high  wages 
offered  by  the  contractors  !  Did  not  our  worthy  guardian 
warn  us  from  lending  our  hands  to  this  evil  undertaking, 
and  did  he  not  tell  us  often  that  the  road  to  hell  was 
broad  and  smooth,  and  that  you  went  down  it  at  a  sharp 
pace?  " 

These  are  the  thoughts  of  our  neighbor,  —  thoughts 
instilled  into  an  active  mind  by  a  set  of  intriguing  schem- 
ers, in  whose  interest  it  lies  to  keep  up  the  barbarous 
ignorance  of  the  populace,  well  knowing  it  to  be  one  of 
the  mainstays  of  their  power. 

Let  us  see  if,  by  an  application  of  a  little  common 
sense,  we  can  not  banish  the  ghost  of  superstitious  igno- 
rance from  an  other\vise  intelligent  and  active  mind. 
We  endeavor,  first  of  all,  to  explain  to  our  neighbor  tlie 
nature  of  steam,  and  the  enormous  power  dormant  in 
that  element.  It  is  a  difficult  undertaking ;  for,  to  go  to 
the  very  root  of  the  question,  these  simple  people  do  not 
even  know  what  a  teakettle  is,  thus  rendering  an  illustra- 
tion of  \\'att's  wonderful  discovery,  by  that  homely  simile, 
impossible.  But,  after  all,  we  succeed  far  more  easily 
than  we  anticipated  at  the  outset ;  for  the  man's  mind  is 
open  to  common-sense  argument,  and  when  he  leaves  us 
at  the  next  station,  the  intelligent  smile  on  his  bright  face 
Confirms  us  in  our  agreeable  conviction  that  we  have  won 
over  to  the  cause  of  the  nineteenth  century  a  disciple  of 
the  bigoted  ignorance  of  the  sixteenth. 

In  his  place  an  entire  peasant  family  rushes  into  the 
carriage  in  a  state  of  excitement  bordering  on  frenzy. 
They  are  from  primitive  Enneberg  :  they  have  never  seen, 
far  less  traveled  on,  a  railway  before ;  and  the  very  mo- 
tion of  driving  is  new  to  them,  for  their  roads,  except  for 
the  springless  carts  used  in  Tyrol,  are  far  too  steep  and 
too  wretchedly  kept  up. 


292     GADDINGS   WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

As  we  listen  to  their  rambling  talk,  expressing  the  most 
vague  notions  respecting  the  origin  of  the  moving  power, 
we  are  reminded  of  days  long  past,  and  we  wonder 
whether  everybody  was  at  first  a  victim  to  the  specula- 
tions and  doubts  to  which  our  neighbors  are  a  prey. 
Presently  our  thoughts  are  interrupted  by  a  loud  shriek, 
and  at  the  same  moment  the  train  is  ingulfed  in  a 
tunnel. 

When,  after  a  minute  or  two,  we  emerge  into  daylight 
again,  the  whole  family  is  discovered  in  a  state  of  col- 
lapse pitiful  to  behold.  They  gaze  about  them,  quite 
astonished  that  nobody  seems  the  worse  for  the  ordeal 
they  have  just  undergone.  Fright  makes  them  all  the 
more  eager  to  enter  into  conversation  with  the  traveler 
sitting  quietly  in  his  corner,  coolly  smoking  his  cigar, 
while  a  veritable  smile  is  flitting  about  his  face. 

It  might  be  the  Evil  One  himself,  come  hither  to 
amuse  himself  at  their  abject  terror.  My  voice  is  there- 
fore greeted  with  joy  ;  and  very  shortly  I  find  myself  en- 
gaged in  a  conversation  with  the  party,  who,  I  hear  pres- 
ently, are  traveling  to  the  same  place  as  we  are.  Feehng 
conscious  that  I  have  but  a  very  hazy  idea  of  the  medici- 
nal  qualities   of  the  waters  of  S ,    I    determine   to 

acquire  some  more  definite  knowledge  by  questioning  our 
fellow-travelers. 

My  hopes,  alas  !  are  not  to  be  fulfilled,  for  all  I  can  get 
out  of  them  is  that  the  water  "  scours  you  out."  I  pitch 
upon  a  more  roundabout  but  surer  way  of  getting  at  the 
information,  by  questioning  them  regarding  their  ailments. 
"  That  must  lead  to  it,"  I  fondly  imagine,  but  again  am 
disappointed.  The  father,  a  broad-shouldered,  keen-eyed 
man,  past  his  first  youth,  tells  us  he  is  suffering  from 
an  old  wound  in  his  leg,  inflicted  by  an  Italian  rifle-ball. 
The  wife,  healthy  and  robust  as  she  is  looking,  complains, 
on  the  other  hand,  of  rheumatism  in  her  whole  body ; 
while  her  daughter,  a  girl  of  nineteen,  is  subject  to  faint- 
ing-fits that  have  defied  all  quacks.  The  two  boys,  one 
of  fourteen,  the  other  of  twelve,  are  described  by  the 
parents  as  "  appetiteless,"  —  a  statement  belied  by  the 
appearance  of  the  apple-cheeked,  sturdy  little  fellows. 


A    VISIT    TO  A   PEASANT  WATERING-PLACE.      293 

"And  will  all  of  you  use  the  waters  of  S ?  "  I  ask, 

for  as  yet  we  have  not  arri\-ed  at  any  clear  idea  as  to  their 
quality. 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly  !  why  would  you  have  us  go  thither, 
a  long  way  off  from  home,  if  we  did  not  use  the  baths?" 

Our  short  "  Of  course  "  ends  the  con\-ersation,  and  we 
are  left  to  our  own  thoughts. 

In  due  time  we  arrive  at  the  station,  from  whence  we 

have  to  proceed  on  foot  to  S .     We  watch  the  happy 

family  being  pulled  out  one  by  one  by  the  impatient 
guard,  for  we  are  the  only  passengers  alighting  at  the 
remote  little  halting-place,  and  the  man  is  impatient  to 
give  the  signal  to  move  on.  But  he  is  not  to  get  off  so 
quickly ;  for  now  one  small  boy  rushes  back  to  the  train,  and 
endeavors  to  scramble  up  to  the  door  in  quest  of  the  fam- 
ily umbrella  that  was  intrusted  to  his  care,  and  which  he 
thinks  he  has  forgotten  in  the  train.  He  is  dragged  off  the 
step  by  the  angry  official,  while  he  orders  the  bewildered 
father  to  show  his  tickets,  for  wliich  the  latter  has  been 
vainly  searching  for  the  last  two  or  three  minutes.  His 
pockets  are  turned  out  one  by  one ;  and  their  contents, 
consisting  of  the  most  heterogeneous  odds  and  ends  of 
household  and  domestic  life,  piled  up  into  the  hat  which 
the  hapless  peasant  has  taken  off  his  head  for  that  pur- 
pose. The  tickets  are  not  to  be  found,  and  the  guard  is 
swearing  lustily  at  the  perplexed  paterfamilias.  Suddenly 
the  wretched  man  remembers  that  he  has  put  them  be- 
tween the  lining  of  his  hat ;  and,  not  waiting  to  empty  that 
receptacle  by  restoring  each  article  to  its  proper  pocket, 
he  turns  it  over  on  the  ground,  and  fishes  the  tickets 
triumphantly  from  the  secret  folds  of  that  strange  hiding- 
place. 

The  train  moves  on,  leaving  ruin  and  confusion  behind 
it.  The  mother  of  the  family  has  had  apparently  her 
share  of  trouble  too  ;  for  there  she  sits  on  a  heap  of  stones, 
bewailing  the  fate  of  a  large  iron  frying-pan,  the  handle 
of  which,  protruding  from  a  well-filled  haversack,  has 
been  bent  out  of  all  shape  by  a  fall  from  the  railway  car- 
riage.    Anxious  to  see  what  other  damage  has  been  done 


2  94     GADDING S    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

to  her  precious  bag,  she  unties  the  strings,  and  out  bulge 
half  a  dozen  or  so  of  cooking-utensils  of  a  size  that  clearly 
show  they  are  intended  for  family  use. 

We  ask  ourselves  why  on  earth  these  people  carry  their 
kitchen  about  with  them.  Did  they  not  tell  us  that  they 
were  bent  on  a  visit  to  a  watering-place  ?  Maybe  they 
know  no  better,  poor  wretches.  We  smile  at  their  igno- 
rance, and  flatter  ourselves  with  the  thought  that,  after  all, 
there  is  nothing  like  knocking  about  the  world  to  teach  a 
fellow  savoir  fah'c,  and  endow  him  with  the  faculty  to  do 
the  right  thing  at  the  right  place. 

Who  would  think  that  we,  and  not  they,  will  be  the 

laughing-stock  of  the  visitors  at  S ?     We  certainly  not, 

as  we  glance  at  the  modest  size  of  their  luggage,  very 
apt  to  make  one  entertain  some  suspicion  that  they  are, 
after  all,  a  company  of  wandering  tinkers,  and  not  the 
respectable,  well-to-do  peasant  family  they  led  us  to  beheve 
them  to  be  by  their  conversation. 

What  on  earth  can  three  little  bundles,  tied  up  in  blue 
cotton  pocket-handkerchiefs,  contain  in  the  way  of  linen 
and  clean  clothes  for  the  use  of  five  persons  ?  We  look 
around  us  in  the  hopes  of  seeing  some  trunk  or  box ;  but 
our  search  is  in  vain,  for,  in  truth,  no  luggage  whatever 
was  set  down  on  the  platform. 

We  shoulder  our  knapsacks,  and  proceed  on  our  way  to 
S .  A  three-hours'  charming  walk  through  shady  for- 
est, where  we  meet  not  a  soul,  brings  us  to  a  cluster  of 
modest  little  chalets,  standing  in  the  middle  of  a  grand 
extent  of  Alpine  meadow-land,  hedged  in  by  a  belt  of 
dark  somber  pine  forest,  over  which  again  tower  the  gla- 
cier-clad giants  of  the  Tauern.  We  sit  down  on  a  con- 
venient boulder,  and  examine  the  picturesque  landscape. 
The  fresh  bracing  air  (we  are  at  an  altitude  of  considera- 
bly over  five  thousand  feet),  the  grand  sweep  of  glacier 
in  close  proximity,  the  faint  wreaths  of  smoke  curling  up 
from  the  simple  log  house,  disappearing  very  nearly  under 
roofs  weighted  with  heavy  stones  and  projecting  several 
yards  on  all  sides,  and  the  distant  lowing  of  cattle,  and 
the  murmuring  of  an  adjacent  rivulet,  all  tend  to  carry  us 
ijito  dreamland. 


A    ]-ISIT  TO  A   PEASANT  WATERIA'G-PLACE.      295 

Separated  from  the  settlement  by  a  grove  of  beech-trees, 
stands  the  dmiinutivc  chapel  erected  by  some  pious  vis- 
itor. It  is  a  simple  structure  of  logs,  neatly  whitewashed 
in  and  outside,  and  will  hold  some  thirty  people  closely 
packed.  The  steeple,  some  forty  feet  high,  is  of  the  same 
material,  and  sports  two  bells  of  silvery  tone. 

But  where  is  the  bath-house,  the  hotel,  the  Kursaal,  and 
the  other  buildings  that  greet  the  visitor  in  most  watering- 
places  of  any  repute  ?  There  are  no  more  than  five  or 
six  huts  visible. 

We  leave  our  post  of  observation,  and  approach  the 
dwellings  by  a  naiTOw  path  meandering  through  the  mead- 
ow. Presently  we  reach  the  first  house  :  it  is  a  log-cabin 
like  the  rest,  though  covering,  perhaps,  a  slightly  larger 
area  than  its  neighbors.  Two  rows  of  benches  and  tables 
in  front  of  the  hut  are  occupied  by  a  laughing  merry 
crowd  of  peasant-folk.  All  of  them  are  types  of  their 
respective  homes.  Vv'e  see  the  inhabitants  of  Enneberg, 
Ahrcn,  Taufers,  Lappach,  St.  Gcorgen,  Ehrenburg,  and  a 
number  of  other  valleys  that  branch  off  from  the  expan- 
sive Pusterthal. 

Each  valley  owns  some  distinctive  feature  in  dress.  If 
it  is  not  the  hat  or  the  cut  of  the  coat,  or  the  color  of  the 
waistcoat  and  braces,  it  is  sure  to  be  the  excessive  width 
or  strange  trimming  of  the  pantaloons,  or  the  color  of  the 
coat,  that  betrays  their  homes. 

Some  thirty  peasants  are  here  assembled,  playing  at 
cards,  or  chatting  together  in  groups,  emitting  clouds  of 
tobacco-smoke  in  the  pauses  of  conversation.     We  have 

the  visitors  of  the  baths  of  S before  us.     A  wooden 

tablet  with  "  Bath-house "  written  on  it,  in  a  hardly 
legible  hand,  is  fixed  over  the  doorway,  where,  engaged 
in  a  lively  conversation  with  a  stout  old  priest,  stands  the 
master  of  the  establishment.  Ele  is  evidently  a  person 
of  some  importance.  He  owns  the  surrounding  fields, 
and  farms  them  himself ;  he  has  a  dozen  head  of  cattle, 
attends  personally  en  his  guests,  aided  by  an  old  male 
attendant  (a  very  tyrannical  Sultan  we  find  him  to  be)  ; 
and,  finally,  he  does  not  mind  turning  stray  pennies  by 
his  skill  and  repute  as  veterinary  surgeon. 


296     GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRhMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

We  look  around  us,  hoping  to  find  some  traces  of 
inhabitable  quarters.  The  two  buildings  adjoining  the 
bath-house,  of  the  interior  of  which  we  shall  make  a 
nearer  examination  on  the  morrow,  form  evidently  part 
of  the  establishment.  We  are  curious  to  see  what  their 
inside  is  like ;  and  we  peep  into  the  first,  and  find  that  it 
contains  naught  but  a  row  of  fireplaces  and  shelves  upon 
which  are  placed,  in  formidable  array,  rows  of  frying- 
pans,  pots,  and  plates. 

This  is  the  kitchen  common  to  all  visitors.  He  v/ho 
wants  to  eat  must  cook  his  food  himself;  for  it  is  the 
utmost  that  mine  host  does  to  furnish  the  raw  materials, 
such  as  flour,  bread,  and  now  and  again  a  haunch  of 
beef.  Now  only  do  we  understand  the  strange  outfit  of 
our  happy  family.  We  retreat  to  the  kitchen,  and  cross- 
ing the  path  enter  the  third  habitation.  It  is  a  barn  with 
two  tiers,  one  for  the  women  and  the  other  for  the  men. 
Rough  blankets  and  a  few  sheets  are  hung  on  pegs  along 
the  wall,  while  the  ground  itself  is  covered  by  a  layer  of 
sweet-smelling  hay,  the  mattress  in  common  to  all  visitors. 

Our  walk  has  made  us  hungry  and  thirsty,  so  v/e  boldly 
attack  m.ine  host  with  a  demand  to  furnish  us  with  food. 
He  eyes  us  from  top  to  bottom,  evidently  taking  stock  of 
our  personality,  and  making  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  ailings 
to  which  our  poor  flesh  is  prone,  and  which  probably  have 
brought  us  hither. 

"  The  Herr  can  have  flour  and  salt,  and  bread  and 
wine,  and  maybe  some  of  the  men  at  that  table  will 
lend  him  a  frying-pan,"  was  the  answer  we  got. 

We  are  doomed  to  turn  cook,  and  v/oe  to  one  who  has 
neglected  his  education  as  such  !  The  host  disappears, 
coming  back,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes,  with  a  bag 
of  flour,  a  handful  of  coarse  salt,  a  pannikin  full  of  milk, 
and  a  couple  of  eggs. 

"  Maybe  you'd  care  for  an  &g^  or  two,"  says  the  man, 
wondering  all  the  while  if  the  price  he  intends  to  ask  for 
each  (about  a  halfpenny)  will  meet  our  approval ;  for 
eggs,  you  must  know,  are  decidedly  luxuries  in  S . 

We  pay  for  the  articles  the  host  has  brought ;  and,  after 


A    VISIT  TO  A   PEASANT  WATERING-PLACE.      297 

borrowing  a  lr}'ing-pan  from  a  young  fellow  at  our  side, 
we  disap])ear  into  the  dark  gulf  of  the  kitchen.  Wood 
is  plentiful  hereabouts,  and  everybody  can  help  himself 
to  as  much  as  he  likes. 

In  ten  minutes  a  savory  omelet  is  standing  before  us, 
side  by  side  with  a  bumper  of  country  wine.  Have  any 
of  my  readers  ever  tried  to  cook  their  own  supper? 
Those  only  that  have,  can  appreciate  the  relish  that 
seasons  the  dish,  be  it  ever  so  simple. 

Before  the  evening  has  closed  in,  we  have  undergone  a 
thorough  course  of  cross-examination  at  the  hands  of  our 
neighbors  as  to  the  object  of  our  visit,  from  whence  we 
hail,  how  long  we  intend  to  stop,  and  as  to  the  nature  of 
our  ailments.  Was  there  any  thing  the  matter  with  our 
digestion,  or  did  we  suffer  from  rheumatism?  We  do 
our  best  to  satisfy  our  companions'  curiosity. 

Presently  the  stout  party  in  a  Franciscan's  cowl,  who  has 
been  standing  near  the  doorway,  engaged  in  conversation 
with  several  peasants,  honors  us  by  sitting  down  at  our 
side,  again  putting  us  under  a  strict  cross-examination 
respecting  the  whence  and  wheres  of  our  journey,  nation- 
ality, &c. 

^\'hile  we  are  thus  engaged,  the  happy  family,  our 
fellow-travelers  of  the  morning,  arrive.  They  are  evi- 
dently more  at  home  here  than  on  railways  ;  for  the  father 
masters  the  position  at  a  glance,  and,  after  getting  a  supply 
of  flour  and  milk,  the  family  disappear  in  the  kitchen, 
where  they  take  formal  possession  of  a  fireplace  and  of  a 
shelf.  Early  hours  are  the  rule.  The  evening  bell  has 
tolled,  the  stout  priest  has  prayed  the  rosary,  the  whole 
company,  standing  up  with  uncovered  heads,  joining 
devoutly  in  the  responses.  It  is  hardly  quite  dark  yet, 
when  the  majority  of  the  company  retire  to  their  roosts 
in  the  hay-loft.  Two  couples  remain  behind ;  they  are 
deep  in  a  game  of  cards,  and  the  heavy  bangs  of  clinched 
fists  on  the  table  betray  the  excited  state  of  the  men, 
hardly  warranted  by  the  exceedingly  moderate  stakes  for 
which  they  are  playing. 

Soon  afterwards  the  men  finish  their  game,  and  retire 


298    GADDTNGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

to  the  bedroom  shed.  We  are  loth  to  leave  the  comfort- 
able seats  and  the  balmy  evening  breeze ;  but  the  host 
informs  us  that  at  nine  o'clock  the  stable-lantern  which 
lights  the  barn  is  put  out,  and  that  without  its  friendly 
but  exceeding  dim  rays  we  v/ill  find  it  impossible  to  dis- 
cover an  unoccupied  corner  for  ourselves,  without  stum- 
bling over  dozens  of  sleeping  forms.  We  each  pay  the 
five  kreutzers  (one  penny)  demanded  by  the  host  for  the 
night's  accommodation,  and  hurry  after  the  men  who 
preceded  us.  We  find  the  inside  of  the  barn  full  of  life 
and  commotion.  The  women  are  on  the  upper  tier,  the 
men  on  the  ground  floor ;  when  the  last  woman  has 
mounted  the  ladder,  and  has  disappeared  through  the 
square  hole,  the  ladder  is  drawn  up,  and  all  further  com- 
munication is  thus  cut  off.  This  is  ahvays  the  signal  for 
numberless  jokes  on  the  part  of  the  men,  answered  by 
biting  sarcasm  from  the  upper  story.  We  have  just  had 
time  to  ensconce  ourselves  in  the  farthest  corner,  under 
a  mountain  of  sweet-smelling  hay,  when  the  light  is  put 
out,  and  darkness  reigns  suprem.e.  The  gurgling  and 
splashing  sound  of  the  spring,  close  by  the  barn,  lulls  us 
to  sleep ;  and  after  as  comfortable  a  night's  rest  as  we 
could  wish,  we  rise  with  the  sun. 

We  are  among  the  last  to  leave  our  barn  dormitory  ;  for 
our  companions,  both  male  and  female,  have  left  nigh  an 
liour  before  us,  eager  to  engage  in  the  fierce  combat  that 
decided  the  ownership  of  each  one  of  the  available  tubs, 
some  fifteen  or  sixteen  in  number. 

Our  limited  knowledge  of  Tyrolese  peasant  watering- 
places  leads  us  to  commit  a  second  mistake  of  far  more 
disagreeable  consequences  than  those  attendant  upon  our 
late  rising.  Ignorant  of  the  excessively  long  time  these 
people  stop  in  their  tubs,  we  put  off  our  breakfast,  or 
rather  we  delay  the  irksome  duty  of  preparing  tliat  meal 
ourselves,  in  order  to  enjoy  a  good  dip  in  the  invigorating 

waters  of  S .     We  enter  the  crazy  old  doorway  giving 

entrance  to  the  log-built  bath-house,  intent  upon  our  an- 
ticipated plunge ;  but  we  proceed  no  farther,  for  rooted  to 
the  ground  v/e  gaze  thunderstruck  at  the  strange  sigb.t 


A    VISIT  TO  A    PEASANT  V/ATERING-PLACE.      299 

that  meets  our  eyes.  Imagine  a  long  chamber,  lighted  by 
half  a  score  of  windows,  cut  in  the  timber,  but  unprotected 
by  glass.  The  roof  of  the  hut  is  the  ceiling  of  the  room  ; 
and  hanging  from  the  rafters,  at  regular  inter\-al3  of  some 
five  or  six  feet,  arc  sheets,  so  an-anged  that  they  sen-e 
first  of  all  as  screens,  and  then  as  towels  to  dry.  A 
screen  larger  than  the  rest  divides  the  chamber  into  two 
unequal  portions,  the  larger  one  with  nine  tubs  being  re- 
served for  the  males,  the  smaller  with  six  tanks  for  the 
females.  Beyond  a  few  chairs  and  a  table  in  the  center, 
whereupon  are  placed  the  watches  and  purses  of  the 
bathers,  the  building  contains  no  furniture  whatever.  A 
low  doorway  leads  into  an  out-house,  where  the  water  is 
heated  in  several  large  boilers.  We  perceive  all  this  at  a 
glance ;  for  the  curtains  are  drawn  aside,  and  the  whole 
chamber,  male  and  female  division,  is  free  from  end  to 
end. 

In  each  of  the  large  tubs,  some  four  feet  in  length,  is 
confined  a  human  being.  I  say  confined,  for  nothing  but 
the  head  peeps  out ;  a  close-fitting  covering  of  boards, 
with  a  semicircular  hole  at  one  end  for  the  neck,  shuts 
you  in  as  completely  as  were  you  a  Jack-in-the-box.  A 
brisk  conversation  is  carried  on.  Here  a  husband,  his 
bronzed  face  at  a  red  glow,  is  scolding  his  demure  wife  at 
the  other  end  of  the  long  chamber ;  there  two  peasants, 
late  partners  in  a  game  at  cards,  endeavor  to  settle  a 
disputed  point  in  a  high-pitched  wrangle. 

Others  again,  highly  shocked  by  the  hilarity  and  de- 
pravity evinced  by  their  companions,  are  conscientiously 
following  the  advice  given  to  them  by  their  spiritual  ad- 
viser. They  are  praying  the  rosary  in  most  devout  fash- 
ion. Their  hands,  rendered  invisible  by  the  lid,  are  busy 
telling  their  beads  lent  to  them  by  the  master  of  the 
establishment ;  for  unlike  the  common  rosaries,  they  have 
to  be  of  some  substance  that  withstands  the  effect  of  an 
immersion  of  several  hours  in  hot  water.  Look  at  that 
picture  of  human  frailty  yonder  !  By  dint  of  a  close 
examination  of  eacli  feature  we  finally  recognize  in  the 
miserable  object  before  us  the  stout  monk  of  yesterday. 


300    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

His  face  is  of  a  coppery  red,  reminding  us  of  a  person 
convulsed  by  an  apoplectic  fit ;  heavy  drops  of  perspira- 
tion are  coursing  down  his  forehead,  and  from  thence 
shaping  themselves  into  a  veritable  cascade  down  his 
puffed-out  cheeks.  His  eyes,  starting  from  his  head,  stare 
at  you  with  a  wild  expression  alarming  to  behold.  His 
sufferings  must  be  intense  ;  for,  with  tlie  rest  of  his  super- 
stitiously  ignorant  flock,  he  firmly  believes  that  the  hotter 
the  water  the  speedier  the  cure.  Poor  fellow  !  he  has 
even  forgotten  his  rosary,  for  the  words  that  now  and 
again  slip  from  his  hps  are  decidedly  no  sacred  ones.  In 
the  tub  next  to  him  a  peasant  is  descanting  upon  his  suf- 
ferings in  a  more  rational  manner,  but  suddenly  forgetting 
totally  the  heinousness  of  his  words,  especially  if  ad- 
dressed to  a  servant  of  the  Holy  Church,  he  remarks  to 
his  neighbor,  —  who  as  we  have  seen  is  not  in  that  frame 
of  mind  to  appreciate  a  joke,  —  "that  if  hell  was  as  hot 
a  place  as  this,  it  must  be  as  good  as  a  bath  !  "  Hardly 
have  these  words  escaped  his  lips,  when  he  is  struck  by 
their  wickedness,  and  forgetting  his  bondage,  and  eager 
to  atone  for  his  crime  by  making  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
raps  his  knuckles  severely  on  the  boards  of  the  lid. 
Unhappy  wretch  !  Glance  where  we  will,  we  see  misery 
in  the  most  comic  form.  The  attendant  of  the  bath,  an 
elderly  man  of  imperturbable  nerves,  goes  his  rounds  in 
a  business-like  manner,  that  betrays  his  unimpressionable 
heart  hardened  against  all  human  feelings.  The  placid 
nod,  saying  as  plainly  as  words  could  do,  "You  fool,"  is 
dealt  out  most  sparingly ;  in  fact,  quite  as  scantily  as  the 
penny  fees  of  the  guests. 

The  watchful  guardian  of  order  in  this  primitive  estab- 
lishment has  nearly  arrived  at  the  end  of  his  round,  when, 
to  his  astonishment,  he  perceives  that  from  the  lid  belong- 
ing to  the  tub  last  in  the  row,  project  two  human  heads, 
one  of  which  suddenly  disappears  as  he  turns  his  eyes  in 
that  direction. 

He  approaches  the  tub,  and  finds,  to  his  utter  aston- 
ishment, that  a  second  hole  has  been  cut  at  the  foot  end 
of  the  lid.     He  plunges  his  arm  down  into  the  hot  water, 


A    VISIT  TO  A   TEAS  ANT   WATERING-PLACE.     301 

and  finally  drags  forth,  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  a  young 
urchin,  highly  frightened,  and  crying  very  freely. 

It  seems  that  our  friend  of  the  day  before,  the  pater- 
familias with  whom  we  traveled  part  of  the  way,  anxious 
to  save  the  fifteen  kreutzers  (three  pence)  for  a  bath  for 
his  youngest  son,  had,  in  an  unobserved  moment,  cut 
out  with  his  pocket-knife  a  second  opening  in  the  cover 
of  the  tub  where  his  elder  son  was  already  seated. 

The  simple-minded  father  trusted  that  his  stratagem 
would  escape  the  notice  of  the  watchful  Cerberus,  and 
ordered  his  surreptitiously-introduced  offspring  to  duck 
down  whenever  the  "  bath-man  "  passed  that  way.  The 
poor  little  fellow,  in  an  agony  of  fear  all  the  while,  had 
difficulty  enough  to  squeeze  his  head  down  through  the 
hole ;  but,  as  we  have  seen,  the  lynx-eyed  attendant  dis- 
covered him  nevertheless. 

Loud  mirth  greeted  his  violent  expostulations,  that 
were  met  on  the  part  of  the  father  by  a  stoical  indiffer- 
ence. The  extra  bath  money,  and  thirty  kreutzers  for 
repairs,  were  demanded  from  our  friend ;  but  finally  the 
claim  was  settled  by  a  fourpenny-bit. 

Our  o\vn  thoughts  are  naturally  diverted  from  the  object 
of  our  visit  by  the  amusing  scene  before  us.  We  had 
been  some  time  in  the  bath-house  before  the  thouizht 

O 

recurred  to  us  that  we  were  here  to  bathe.  The  com- 
pany, however,  evinced  not  the  slightest  sign  of  bringing 
their  immersion  to  a  close. 

We  asked  the  attendant,  and  learned  from  him  that  at 
nine  o'clock  the  company  would  leave  their  tubs,  and 
adjourn  to  dinner. 

"And  don't  they  breakfast?"  we  ask;  and  are  an- 
swered in  the  negative,  — "  They  cat  all  the  more  at 
dinner." 

Not  inclined  to  forego  our  breakfast  in  lieu  of  a  nine  or 
ten  o'clock  dinner,  we  tell  the  man  to  reserve  us  tubs,  and 
leave  the  hot  atmosphere  of  the  bath-house,  for  a  walk 
through  the  bright  green  meadow-land  and  shady  pine- 
forests  that  inclose  the  httle  settlement  on  all  sides. 

In  an  hour's  time  we  are  back, — just  in  time  to 
watch  the  closing  scene  of  that  morning's  bathing. 


2,02     GADDIKGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Punctually  at  nine  o'clock  the  attendant  pulls  the  cur- 
tains, transforming  the  Vvdiole  space  into  two  distinct 
divisions  ;  and  each  of  these  again  into  as  many  little 
cabinets  as  there  are  tubs.  A  passage  is  left  free  between 
the  two  rows,  and  from  thence  you  can  watch  the  violent 
movements  of  the  curtains,  while  they  are  being  used  as 
towels. 

The  whereabouts  of  the  portly  priest  was  easily  dis- 
covered ;  for  presently  we  saw  the  coarse  linen  sheet 
bulge  out,  and  then,  wet  as  it  was,  mark  the  outlines  of 
his  formidable  corpus. 

On  going  out,  each  person  pays  his  fifteen  kreutzers, 
and  gives  his  orders  respecting  the  afternoon.  Some  of 
the  poorer  visitors,  not  being  able  to  afford  a  second  hot 
ablution,  take  advantage  of  the  privilege  accorded  to 
them  by  the  owner,  namely,  of  being  allowed  to  use  the 
water  of  the  morning  a  second  time  in  the  afternoon.  In 
the  course  of  the  four  hours  that  intervene  between  the 
two  baths,  the  water  has  got  quite  cold ;  but  there  is  no 
help  for  the  poor  wretches  who  are  driven  to  these  straits. 

While  the  first  half  of  the  visitors  are  eating  their  din- 
ners, the  second  batch,  among  v/hom  v/e  find  ourselves, 
adjourn  to  the  bath-house.  This  only  occurs  in  the 
height  of  the  season,  when  the  press  of  visitors  is  great. 
We  astonish  our  attendant  by  stopping  in  the  water  but 
half  an  hour ;  and  he  gives  vent  to  this  feeling  by  remark- 
ing to  us  that  we  must  nevertheless  pay  three  pence,  "  as 
if  you  had  stopped  your  three  hours  in  it." 

We  do  so  very  willingly,  for  the  bath  is  a  delightful  one. 
Not  so  was  our  breakfast ;  for  we  have  to  wait  for  more 
than  half  an  hour  till  one  of  the  fireplaces  in  the  kitchen 
has  become  vacant,  and  then,  it  being  Friday,  and  no 
meat  obtainable  for  love  or  money,  we  have  to  appease 
our  appetite  with  a  plate  of  "Schmarn." 

After  breakfast  we  are  joined  by  the  owner  of  the  es- 
tablishment, a  simple  peasant,  as  unrefined  and  rough- 
looking  as  his  visitors. 

One  question  leads  to  another,  and  very  shortly  we  are 
deep  in  an  interesting  conversation  with  the  man.     His 


A    VISIT  TO  A   PEASANT  WATERING-rLACE.     303 

father,  it  turns  out,  had  built  the  two  log  houses,  and  had 
increased  the  number  of  tubs  from  three  to  tweh^e.  On 
the  death  of  his  parent,  he  and  his  sister  inherited  the 
estabUshmcnt  and  a  valuable  Alpine  pasturage  with  two 
huts,  on  yonder  mountain  slopes. 

"  She  is  up  there  now  tending  our  herd  of  cattle,  and 
sends  down,  twice  a  week,  milk,  butter,  and  cheese  for 
the  visitors  at  the  bath." 

From  this  our  conversation  turns  upon  other  topics, 
amongst  which  are  some  questions  we  put  to  the  peasant 
regarding  his  visitors. 

"Are   they  all   peasants?      Does  he   really  think  the 

waters  of  S have  such  beneficial  results  ?  or  is  it  not 

perhaps  the  perfect  rest,  and  the  regular  way  of  living, 
that  accomplishes  the  cure?  " 

In  answer  our  host  gives  us  some  startling  instances  of 
cures  effected  by  a  visit  to  S . 

We  then  proceed  to  ask  him  why  he  does  not  make 
some  suitable  arrangements  for  the  accommodation  of 
his  visitors,  —  a  separate  hut,  with  a  few  little  rooms  con- 
taining a  bed  or  two  each,  and  a  woman  to  cook  for  those 
who  could  not  handle  a  frying-pan  themselves. 

We  are  told  that  these  improvements  would  be  the 
ruin  of  the  place. 

"This  is  but  a  peasants'  watering-place,  and  it  is 
arranged  especially  for  them.  We  do  not  want  '  Herr- 
enleut'  (gentlefolk)  to  come  here.  There  are  enough 
watering-places  for  them  in  T}to1.  Wherever  purse-proud 
town-folk  arc,  living  is  dear,  and  peasant-folk  are  there- 
fore shut  out.  Beds,  cooks,  and  table  d  lioie  are  all  very 
well  for  those  who  can  afford  such  luxuries.  Here  a  man 
can  live  as  economically  as  at  home.  He  pays  five 
kreutzers  for  his  bed,  the  same  sum  for  the  use  of  the 
kitchen,  and  fifteen  for  his  bath,  and  say  thirty  kreutzers 
a  day  for  his  food,  making  a  sum  total  of  fifty-five  kreut- 
zers (about  thirteen  p^nce). 

"  These  are  different  prices  from  those  that  town-folk 
are  wiUing  to  pay  ;  why,  I  have  heard  that  at  many  water- 
ing-places a  man  is  obliged  to  pay  as  much  as  two  shil- 


304    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

lings  for  his  bed  and  room,  and  not  much  less  for  his 
dinner  !  Were  I  to  make  any  improvements  such  as  you 
referred  to,  I  would  have  to  raise  my  prices  ;  and  while  this 
out-of-the-way  nook  would  be  rarely  visited  by  people 
who  could  afford  paying  for  these  luxuries,  I  would  drive 
away  my  peasant  customers.  We  rejoice  that  we  are  left 
to  ourselves  ;  and,  as  long  as  I  live,  the  place  shall  remain 
as  you  see  it  now." 

At  this  moment  the  tiny  bell  in  the  chapel,  which  we 
noticed  yesterday  on  our  journey  hither,  begins  to  toll. 

"  'Tis  Friday  mass,"  says  our  host,  and  explains  sub- 
sequently that  a  rich  peasant,  who  had  been  cured  from 
a  severe  aihng  in  S ,  had  left  as  a  pious  legacy  a  munifi- 
cent sum  wherewith  every  Friday  a  mass  is  said  for  the 
salvation  of  his  soul.  A  part  of  the  foundation  was  ap- 
propriated to  repair  the  chapel  and  furnish  it  with  a  regu- 
lar supply  of  wax  candles. 

''But  have  you  always  a  priest  stopping  here?  "  we  ask. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  that's  the  most  important  personage  in  a 
bath.  Why,  not  a  single  peasant  would  stop  scarcely 
twenty-four  hours,  were  there  no  priest  to  read  morning 
mass  every  day.  I  generally  get  them  from  some  of  the 
monasteries  in  the  Pusterthal  or  from  Brixen." 

"But  do  you  mean  to  say  you  order  them ?"  we  in- 
quire. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  at  the  beginning  of  the  season  I  write  to  the 
prior  of  one  of  these  establishments,  telling  him  that  for 
that  and  that  month  I  want  a  Capuchin,  or  a  Franciscan, 
or  a  Benedictine  patcj-  up  here,  and  he  tells  me  if  he 
can  let  me  have  one.  I  am  always  kept  supplied  with 
them,  for  they  have  every  thing  free  here  except  flour 
and  wine  ;  I  don't  charge  them  for  their  hay  couch,  the 
use  of  the  kitchen,  nor  for  their  bath,  nor  for  what  they 
eat,  except  flour.  They  like  coming,  for  they  lead  a 
much  gayer  life  up  here  than  down  in  the  gloomy  cells 
of  their  monastery.  I  often  get  two  at  a  time  ;  and  then 
I  make  them  each  pay  for  their  food,  and  give  them  every 
thing  else  gratuitously.  Father  Coelestin  "  (referring  to 
the  stout  party  whose  miserable  plight  in  the  steam-bath 


A    VISIT   TO   A    PEASANT   IVATERIXG-PLACE.      305 

I  took  occasion  to  note)  "  has  been  here  for  three  weeks 
the  last  tweh-e  or  fifteen  years  !  but,  poor  fellow,  he  leaves 
the  balh  c\ery  yeai-  stouter  than  he  arrived.  He  was 
pretty  slim  at  first,  but  now  he  has  grown  very  stout- 
bodied  ;  and  thoui^h  he  bathes  in  water  four  or  five  de- 
grees hotter  than  any  of  the  other  visitors  dare  use,  the 
good  fare  and  the  jolly  life  counterbalance  the  effects  of 
the  torture  to  which  he  submits  twice  a  day.  He  is  the 
favorite  among  the  peasants  :  his  sermons  are  of  the  best, 
for  he  describes  the  tortures  of  hell  with  a  reality  and 
force  that  none  of  the  other  priests  can  equal,  and  you 
will  know  yourself  that  peasants  love '  strong '  sermons. 
Pater  Ccelestin's  words  go  straight  to  one's  heart,  they 
say,  and  one  really  gets  convinced  of  the  terrible  fate 
that  awaits  sinners." 

Our  host  leaves  us  to  join  the  crowd  that  is  hurrying 
towards  the  chapel.  Let  us  follow  this  simple-minded 
congregation,  and  cast  a  glance  at  the  inside  of  the  way- 
side shrine.  The  edifice  is  crowded  to  suffocation,  and 
there  is  hardly  a  foot  of  free  space  inter\-ening  between 
the  altar-step  and  the  first  row  of  devotees. 

There  is  no  vestry,  nor  any  other  free  space  for  the 
ofiiciating  priest  to  dress  in,  and  we  wonder  how  the  stout 
father  will  manage  to  crowd  through  the  densely-packed 
congregation.  Presently  we  see  the  slip  of  red  curtain  at 
the  side  of  the  altar  pushed  aside,  and  the  portly  monk 
squeezes  himself  out  sideways  through  an  opening  in  the 
wall  barely  sufficient  to  allow  a  lean  person  to  pass 
through  comfortably.  A  titter  runs  through  the  congrega- 
tion, for  the  sight  is  ridiculous  in  the  extreme.  While 
our  friend  reads  mass,  and  the  little  boy  of  the  owner 
tinkles  a  cracked  bell,  we  examine  the  walls  of  the  sacred 
building.  There  are  numberless  votive  offerings  lining 
them.  Here  we  see  rows  of  crutches  of  all  lengths  and 
sizes,  each  adorned  with  some  faded  ribbon;  yonder  a 
rank  and  file  of  arms,  legs,  eyes,  and  ears,  shaped  in  wax ; 
there  dozens  of  little  pictures,  horrible  daubs,  the  work  of 
village  schoolma.sters  or  rural  stonemasons.  They  are  all 
the  gifts  of  peasants  whose  ailings  ha\e  been  cured  by 


o 


06     GADDINGS    IVITII  A    PRIMiriVE   PEOPLE. 


the  waters  of  S ,  and  who  demonstrate  their  grate- 
ful acknowledgments  by  offering  up  the  very  crutches  by 
the  aid  of  which  they  reached  the  miraculous  source  ;  or 
by  presenting  a  miniature  image  of  the  diseased  limb  or 
organ,  shaped  in  white  or  red  wax.  Let  us  read  the  in- 
scriptions on  one  or  two  of  the  pictures  close  at  our  side. 
On  one  we  see  a  man  and  woman  kneeling  at  an  altar : 
they  are  dressed  in  the  old-fashioned  many-colored  garb 
of  the  Ehrenbergers.  Above  them,  floating  on  a  throne 
of  clouds,  is  the  Virgin  and  the  Child.  In  one  hand  she 
is  holding  a  crutch,  in  the  other  a  pail  of  water,  the  insig- 
nia of  watering-places.  Both  devotees  at  her  feet  are  in 
the  attitude  of  prayer ;  and  underneath  is  written,  that 
Johann  Klausner  and  Gertraud  his  housewife  were  healed 
and  cured  of  terrible  sickness  with  the  aid  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  and  that,  as  a  token  of  gratitude,  they  have  offered 
up  this  picture,  and  have  vowed  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to 
Maria  Shrine  :  "  Thou  blessed  and  immaculate  mothei  of 
mankind,  thou  wife  of  God,  thou  source  of  all  blessings, 
be  with  us,  and  protect  us  for  ever  and  ever." 

Underneath  the  picture  and  this  quaint  inscription,  is 
a  lively  representation  of  hell.  Three  youths  and  two 
maidens  are  immured  up  to  their  waists  in  a  caldron  filled 
with  molten  lead  ;  and  a  select  company  of  imps  and 
young  devils  are  dancing  round  the  martyrs. 

The  other  picture,  hanging  just  below  the  one  we  have 
described,  shows  us  a  peasant  in  the  same  attitude  and 
with  the  same  surroundings  as  those  of  the  couple  in  the 
preceding  picture.  The  inscription  is  more  laconic ;  but 
betrays  humor  on  the  part  of  the  owner  :  — 

"  God  and  the  Virgin  Mary  give  us  sudden  good  luck, 
And  protect  us  from  costly  fare  1 " 

What  the  donor  meant  by  these  at  first  quite  unintelli- 
gible words,  was  explained  to  us  later  on  by  the  monk. 
The  man  had  fallen  down  a  deep  precipice,  and  instead 
of  breaking  his  neck  he  had  but  broken  his  arm :  that 
was  the  "  sudden  good  luck."     The  "  costly  fare  "  meant 


J    VISIT  TO  A   PEASANT  WATERING-PLACE.      307 

physic.  He  had  been  dosing  himself  with  quantities  of 
quack  medicines ;  but  nothing  availed  him  till  he  came 
to  S . 

The  mass  is  finished  ;  the  congi^egation  files  out  of  the 
low  porch,  leaving  us  to  our  quiet  contemplation  of  the 
motley  array  of  waxen  arms  and  legs.  ^Vhy  is  it,  we  ex- 
claim, as  our  glance  ranges  along  the  walls,  that  in  this 
strange  and  fontastic  display  of  superstition  only  bodily 
shortcomings  of  mankind  are  represented  ?  Surely  the 
human  mind,  so  much  more  delicately  fram.ed,  has  equal 
claims  to  a  peg  in  the  w-alls  of  Tyrolese  wayside  chapels. 

The  peasant  in\-alid  deposits,  when  cured,  his  now  use- 
less crutches  in  the  next  shrine.  And  why,  we  ask,  could 
not  the  unsuccessful  critic-damned  author,  in  his  frantic 
endeavors  to  propitiate  a  never-satisfied  public,  devote  his 
scribbled-out  nibs,  as  a  cheap  sacrificial  offering  to  the 
deity?  He  certainly  would  be  doing  no  more  than  the 
peasant,  who,  by  a  judicious  contribution  to  the  priest's 
stock  of  firewood,  encompasses  such  big  ends. 

Speaking  of  baths  in  Tyrol,  and  their  singularly  primi- 
tive arrangements,  I  am  forcibly  reminded  of  a  highly- 
amusing  pamphlet  I  once  came  across.  The  owner  of 
it,  an  old  peasant,  who  studied  it  with  the  greatest  assidu- 
ity, was  loth  to  part  with  it ;  but  finally  I  managed  to 
overcome  his  scruples,  and  the  little  book  is  now  lying 
before  me. 

Printed  in  Brixen,  in  the  year  of  grace  1681,  its  lan- 
guage abounds  with  Latin  words  and  phrases,  then  so 
much  in  vogue.  Its  author,  a  certain  Dr.  Johannes  Tile- 
mann,  writes  for  a  Tyrolese  ]:)ublic  ;  and  as  he  deals  with 
watering-places  in  that  country  then  in  existence,  I  ven- 
ture to  lay  a  few  extracts  before  those  of  my  readers  who 
may  be  in  want  of  a  thorough  "renovation,"  as  our 
author  puts  it,  or  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  may  feel 
some  curiosity  as  to  the  ^^  experientice  prccscriini  fine 
Indico,  ac  rationc  vcrarum  causaruvi  factcc,^''  of  the  sana- 
tive waters  to  be  found  in  Tyrol,  A.D.  1681. 

Our  author  commences  his  "Instructions"  with  the 
advice  :  "  Before  you  go  to  a  watering-place,  it  is  best  to 


3oS    GADDINCS  WITH  A   riUMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

reconciliate  your  soul  with  the  Lord,  and  to  wash  and 
cleanse  your  body  thoroughly.  Should  you  require  it,  you 
can  have  yourself  bled,  in  order  that  the  impurities  of 
your  former  life  may  go  off.  Those  who  are  of  a  very 
weak  constitution,  and  fain  can  not  '  endure,'  had  better 
not  remain  longer  than  four  hours  in  the  water  for  the 
first  three  or  four  days.  They  can  then  increase  it  to 
eight  or  nine  and  even  ten  hours  a  day.  It  is  best  to 
arrange  your  journey  to  the  watering-place  you  have 
chosen  so  as  to  commence  the  actual  cure  when  the  moon 
is  on  the  decrease,  and  if  you  suffer  from  a  skin-disease, 
not  to  cease  till  you  are  quite  cured.  I  would  advise  you, 
in  copia  liuiiioruin,  to  get  into  your  bath  vvith  an  empty 
stomach  at  an  early  hour  of  the  day.  If  you  bathe  of 
afternoons,  too,  you  must  wait  three  or  at  least  two  hours 
after  your  dinner,  in  order  that  the  food  you  have  eaten 
may  get  in  f undo  Veni/'iaili" — a  novel  expression  for 
digestion. 

"  If  you  are  so  excessively  weak  so  as  not  to  be  able  to 
endure  for  at  least  two  hours  and  a  half  at  a  time  in  the 
water,  you  may  take  som.e  hot  broth  as  a  stimulant,  pro- 
vided your  '  Medici '  has  not  ordered  you  to  drink  hot 
bath  water." 

Our  authority  continues  to  inform  his  readers  that  in 
most  of  the  watering-places  the  patient  is  left  entirely  to 
his  own  resources,  no  "  Medici "  residing  there.  In 
consequence  of  this  circumstance,  he  advises  his  readers 
to  procure  for  themselves  a  medicine-chest  before  visiting 
one  of  these  spas  of  the  Middle  Ages.  To  enable  them 
to  do  so,  he  proceeds  to  fill  half  a  page  with  a  list  of  such 
drugs,  draughts,  and  medical  instruments  as  formed,  ac- 
cording to  the  fearfully-neglected  state  of  the  medical 
science  of  those  days,  the  most  necessary  attributes  of  the 
profession.  Among  a  number  of  the  most  filthy  draughts, 
and  check  by  ]o\A  with  certain  deadly  drugs,  we  find  enu- 
merated as  the  contents  of  a  properly-filled  out  medicine- 
chest  :  boiled  eggs,  manna,  palm-oil,  sweet  apples,  and 
raisins.  Dr.  Johannes,  evidently  forgetting  that  not  every 
one  of  his  readers  was  acquainted  with  the  use  of  the 


A    VISIT  TO  A   PEASANT  IVATERING-PLACL.     309 

drugs,  instruments,  &:c.,  he  tells  them  to  provide  them- 
selves with,  omits  to  gi\'e  them  directions  how  to  use  the 
latter,  or  in  what  quantities  the  poisonous  drugs  could  be 
taken  without  danger. 

"  It  is  better  to  eat  well  than  to  drink  well.  Before 
your  meals  take  some  exercise,  but  in  every  case  keep 
your  mind  as  undisturbed  as  possible  by  '  musica,'  cards, 
and  the  chords  of  the  harp." 

It  is  a  remarkable  sign  of  the  morbid  crax'ing  for  mon- 
strous quantities  of  rich  food,  to  which  most  people  in  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  were  given,  that  by 
far  the  most  numerous  ills  of  mankind  enumerated  by  our 
authority  in  the  pages  of  his  pamphlet  arose  from  an  im- 
paired digestion.  Not  more  than  a  page  is  given  to  other 
illnesses,  the  whole  subject  being  dismissed  by  a  quaint 
admonition,  "that,  in  case  the  waters  do  not  produce  the 
desired  effect,  it  is  high  time  for  help." 

To  give  my  readers  an  idea  what  "  doing  a  spa  "  meant 
in  those  days,  I  will  pick  out  one  of  the  six  "  Day  and 
Hour  Tables  "  given  in  Cr.  Johannes'  erudite  work. 

By  the  aid  of  these  tables,  a  person  visiting  a  watering- 
place,  and  knowing  beforehand  how  long  it  would  take  to 
accomplish  his  cure  (  ! ),  could  fix  upon  the  time  he  should 
remain  in  his  bath  every  day. 

Choosing  the  shortstone,  i.e.,  the  tablet  for  a  cure  of 
twelve  days,  we  read  tl:at,  — 

On  the  first  day  he  has  to  bathe  for  five  hours ;  on  the 
second,  eight ;  on  the  third,  eleven ;  on  the  fourth, 
twelve  ;  on  the  fifth,  twelve  *;  on  the  sixth,  twelve  ;  on  the 
seventh,  twelve ;  on  the  eighth,  twelve ;  on  the  ninth, 
twelve  ;  on  the  tenth,  twelve ;  on  the  eleventh,  ten ;  on 
the  twelfth,  six. 

This  is  for  the  shortest  stay,  the  other  tablets  giving 
the  hours  for  a  visit  of  thirteen,  fourteen,  sixteen,  twenty- 
five,  and  thirty-two  days. 

"And  people  were  really  so  idiotic  as  to  keep  to  these 
monstrous  instructions?  "  my  readers  will  exclaim.  Dr. 
Johannes  took  good  care  that  they  did  ;  for,  in  a  solemnly- 
worded   admonition   which    precedes    these    tablets,    he 


3IO    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

warns  his  readers  that  '^  vomitu,"  severe  pains,  and  swell- 
ings in  various  parts  of  the  body,  are  sure  to  punish  irreg- 
ularity. 

A  right  pleasant  life  it  must  have  been  in  one  of  these 
baths  ! 

Our  author  then  gives  a  list  of  the  principal  watering- 
places  in  Tyrol.  Two,  or  at  the  utmost  three,  lines  con- 
tain all  the  information  he  has  to  give  of  each.  He  says, 
for  instance  :  — 

"  The  baths  of  Vahren,  for  leprosy  (a  common  disease 
at  that  time),  to  be  taken  cold,  also  one  can  bathe  in 
the  water."  Of  another,  that  at  Lisru,  he  says,  "A  good 
bath  for  mothers,  used  internally  cold,  externally  warm." 

Dr.  Johannes  closes  his  little  volume  with  the  exhorta- 
tion to  his  readers  "  to  thank  the  Almighty,  —  a  '  Medici ' 
evincing  greater  solicitude  for  the  healths  than  for  the 
pockets  of  his  patients ;  "  but  spoils  the  whole  by  tagging 
on,  "  if  you  leave  the  bath  alive  and  hale." 

In  another  way  this  bit  of  goody-goodism  is  somewhat 
out  of  part,  for  in  the  sentence  preceding  the  one  I  have 
mentioned,  he  says,  "This  book  is  for  the  rich  only." 

A  year  or  two  ago,  I  had  occasion  to  examine  a  most 
interesting  manuscript,  dating  from  the  year  1479. 

It  was  nothing  less  than  a  diary  kept  by  a  noble  knight 
while  on  a  visit  to  Pfiiffers,  in  Switzerland,  at  that  time 
one  of  the  most  renowned  watering-places  on  the  Conti- 
nent.^ 

By  all  accounts  Pfaffers  was  at  that  time  in  very  bad 
repute.  In  fact,  in  the  later  Middle  Ages,  all  watering- 
places  and  public  bathing-houses  in  large  towns  were 
places  where  licentiousness  v/as  more  or  less  rife. 

Knight  lorg,  for  that  was  his  Christian  name,  begins 
his  diary  very  much  in  the  same  manner  as  he  would 
have  done  a  deed  :  — 

"  I,  the  virtuous  Knight  lorg,  have  undertaken  the 
perilous  and  long  journey  from  my  native  country  (Ty- 

1  Pfaffers  is  in  St.  Gallen.  Its  waters  were  first  discovered  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  and,  owing  to  several  marvelous  cures,  it  quickly  became  celebrated. 
The  Benedictine  Abbey  in  the  village  of  Pfaffers  was  founded  as  early  as  789 
A.D. 


A    VTSIT  TO  A   PEASANT  WATERIA'G-PLACE.      311 

rol)  for  the  sake  and  for  the  benefit  of  my  health,  so  that 
the  running  wound  of  the  lance-point  may  perish." 

Let  us  hope  that  he  succeeded  in  routing  the  lance- 
point  and  curing  his  wound,  received,  probably,  in  battle. 
Knight  lorg  then  goes  on  to  give  a  description  of  the 
place,  "  how  males  and  females  from  large  towns  bathed 
in  excavations  in  the  rock,"  &c.  He  next  gives  us  a  list 
of  his  wearing-apparel.  By  it  we  see  how  very  simply, 
and  not  to  say  scantily,  the  wardrobe  of  a  nobleman  was 
then  stocked  :  — 

"  One  shirt  {pfcit)  for  best,  with  collar  and  strings ; 
one  pair  of  Spanish  hose,  dark  blue  and  striped  ;  item 
one,  pair  of  Flandish  hose,  not  for  best ;  item  one,  doublet 
of  red  stuff  and  velvet,  very  beautiful,  for  best." 

Underclothing  was  not  worn  in  those  days. 

PfafTers  had  a  doctor  of  its  own,  for  on  the  third  page 
of  the  diary  we  find  him  mentioned,  — 

"To-day,  on  Tuesday  after  Peter  and  Paul  (in  July), 
paid  the  *  Medici,'  a  very  handy  man,  three  kreutzers 
{2\d^  for  a  medicine-bottle,  three  goodly  pills,  for  bleed- 
ing me,  and  for  cutting  my  toe-nails." 

Very  shortly  afterwards,  his  services  are  again  called 
into  requisition,  though  this  time  our  visitor  seems  to 
have  been  less  satisfied  with  the  handy  man. 

He  calls  him  in  to  have  one  of  his  teeth  extracted,  and 
remarks  very  naively :  "  Though  I  could  have  done  it 
much  better  myself,  his  charge  was  moderate.  It  was  a 
bad  job." 

Very  amusing  is  the  description  of  the  gay  life  led  by 
many  of  the  visitors,  evidently  to  the  great  and  ill-dis- 
guised astonishment  of  our  friend  Knight  lorg,  who, 
judging  by  the  length  of  time  he  remained  in  his  bath 
every  day,  meant  business,  and  could  not  imagine  any- 
body coming  to  a  watering-place  for  pleasure  alone. 
Some  of  his  remarks  are  worth  quoting  :  — 

"  A  strange  lot  of  people  I  see  in  this  place.  Some 
care  litUe  for  their  health,  but  only  for  amusement.  They 
troop  together,  they  swear  and  drink,  and  never  think  of 
their  God.    Worst  of  all  arc  the  damsels  from  large  towns  " 


312     GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

(evidently  the  fashionable  demi-monde  of  that  day). 
"  They  wear  gaudy  dresses  and  immense  trains,  and  put 
on  strange  manners,  but  they  are  without  virtue.  They 
single  out  the  rich ;  and,  as  long  as  their  pockets  and 
bellies  are  kept  filled,  they  care  for  naught.  Gambling, 
drinking,  swearing,  and  'piggery'  is  their  day's  work." 

"  How  is  it,"  our  author  exclaims,  "that  these  creatures 
have  escaped  the  Lord's  judgment?"^ 

Knight  lorg  seems,  however,  to  have  grown  tired  of 
his  virtue,  for  on  the  day  before  he  starts  on  his  home- 
ward journey,  he  enters  into  his  diary:  "This  day  I  put 
seventeen  kreutzers  and  four  perner  into  the  devil's  pock- 
et," meaning  thereby,  we  suppose,  that  he  lost  that  sum 
at  cards.  Probably  one  or  the  other  of  the  "  light  dam- 
sels "  at  Pfaffers  managed  to  mark  the  "  odd  trick." 

The  next  day's  entry  betrays  that  Kjiight  lorg  "felt 
bad,"  for  he  closes  his  diary  with  the  remark:  "The 
Lord  be  thanked  that  I  leave  this  God-forsaken,  devil-be- 
ridden  Sodom,  a  hale  man  !  " 

What  with  twelve  hours  in  the  bath,  and  the  constant 
eyesore  in  the  shape  of  those  light  damsels,  he  had  for- 
sooth every  reason  to  be  grateful  that  he  left  Pfaffers 
alive,  and,  let  us  hope  as  charitable  Christians,  virtuous. 

Pfaffers  of  A.D.  1479,  and  Monaco  of  A.D.  1878  !  — 
what  a  difference,  and  yet  what  great  resemblance  !  Civ- 
ilization, whatever  be  its  merits,  has  certainly  failed  very 
materially  as  long  as  the  eye  and  ear  sores  of  Knight 
lorg  are  left  in  the  flourishing  conditions  of  to-day. 
There  is,  however,  one  point  that  calls  for  the  most  pro- 
found applause  on  the  part  of  the  nineteenth-century 
man.  It  is  that  four  hundred  years  hence  no  preying 
hand,  rooting  about  the  ruins  of  the  West  End  or  of 
Piccadilly,  will  by  any  mortal  chance  find  occasion  to 
expose  to  the  pubhc  of  A.D.  2279  meditations  and  senti- 
ments similar  to  those  of  our  virtuous  Knight  lorg  of 
1479,  when  describing  the  horrors  of  gay  Pfaffers.  Let 
the  reader  compile  to  himself  a  diary  kept  by  a  fashiona- 

'  He  evidently  refers  to  the  plague,  one  of  the  most  common  scourges  of  man- 
kind in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries. 


A    VISIT  TO    A   PEASANT  WATERING-PLACE.      313 

ble  "  knight  "  of  any  of  the  swell  clubs,  while  out  on  a 
tour  through  the  "  devil-be-ridden  "  Pfaifers  of  our  own 
day :  he  will  arrive,  very  probably,  at  a  more  complete 
stock  of  wearing-apparel,  but  I  am  afraid  the  sum  total 
of  virtue  will  be  in  exactly  the  inverse  ratio  to  the  in- 
crease of  shirts  and  coats. 

As  a  sequel  to  this  sketch  of  the  life  led  by  knightly 
visitors  to  Pfaffers,  and  as  a  befitting  close  to  this  chap- 
ter on  watering-places  in  Tyrol,  I  may  narrate  a  not  un- 
interesting ad\enture  that  some  thirty  years  ago  befell  an 
obscure  country  st[uire,  at  a  small  peasants'  watering- 
place   called   Mitterbad,   in   the   Ulten   valley  in   South 

T)T0l. 

In  the  year  1841  a  young  Prussian  country  squire 
visited  this  remote  little  watering-place,  and  for  several 
years  afterwards  was  one  of  the  little  flock  of  strangers 
that  came  hither.  Josepha  Holzner,  the  daughter  of 
the  then  ov/ner  of  the  establishment,  though  yet  in  her 
teens,  was  a  beauty,  and  hence  the  object  of  the  flatter- 
ing attentions  of  most  male  visitors.  Our  squire,  then 
in  the  first  prime  of  youthful  manhood,  was  for  the  first 
year  or  two  among  her  most  assiduous  swains,  repelling 
not  a  few  of  his  faint-hearted  rivals  by  his  austere  manner. 
The  flirtation  —  for  we  must  presume  that  at  first  it  v/as 
naught  else  —  soon  ripened  into  something  more  serious. 
Old  Hoisl,  the  attendant  at  the  bathing  establishment 
(who  a  year  ago  was  still  alive)  tells  numberless  anec- 
dotes of  this  courtship  :  how  one  after  the  other  the 
rivals  dropped  away,  abashed  by  our  squire's  austere  and 
overbearing  hauteur;  of  the  innumerable  love-letters 
that  passed  through  his  hands  in  his  c:haracter  of  postil- 
ion d' amour ;  of  the  stolen  rendezvous  that  took  place 
under  his  immediate  supervision  —  for  Josepha's  father 
was  from  the  first  against  the  "  heretic  Prussian's  "  atten- 
tions, and  of  course  in  a  small  place  like  Mitterbad  the 
utmost  caution  was  necessary  to  outwit  the  father's  vigi- 
lant eyes  and  ears. 

This  lasted  for  some  time,  the  strangely-matched  pair 
growing  fonder  of  each  other  from  day  to  day,  and  con- 


3H    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIRIITIVE  PEOPLE. 

vincing  our  hero  that  life  without  Josepha  would  be  a 
blank.  It  must  have  cost  a  terrific  struggle  with  himself 
to  come  finally  to  the  determination  to  marry  fair  Jose- 
pha. He  was  a  Prussian  "Junker"  par  excellence,  who, 
we  must  presume,  at  that  remote  period  of  his  life  had 
not  yet  had  occasion  to  cast  from  him  the  belief,  so 
marked  a  peculiarity  of  Prussian  nobility,  that  an  im- 
measurable gap  divides  the  noble  from  the  burgher  class- 
es, and  that  a  union  with  a  member  of  the  latter  entailed, 
to  say  the  very  least,  a  loss  of  caste. 

The  decisive  day  arrived ;  and  our  hero,  never  dream- 
ing that  the  simple  peasant  would  refuse  him  the  hand 
of  his  daughter,  visited  old  Holzner  for  the  purpose  of 
asking  fair  Josepha  in  marriage. 

Old  Holzner,  amazed  beyond  description  at  the  thought 
of  uniting  his  daughter  with  a  heretic,  stormed  and  swore, 
and  once  for  all  declined  the  honor.  The  old  faith  to 
him  was  more  than  worldly  advancement,  and  the  stanch 
Catholic  peasant  sent  the  noble  wooer,  with  a  peremp- 
tory "  no,"  about  his  business. 

The  squire  left  Mitterbad  the  next  morning,  and  Jose- 
pha was  married  several  years  afterwards  to  a  petty  offi- 
cial of  the  Episcopal  Court  of  Justice  in  Salzburg. 

This  tale  would  be  hardly  worth  telling  (for  its  kith 
and  kin  are  out  of  number) ,  were  the  hero  (though  at 
the  time,  as  I  have  said,  an  entirely  unknown  country 
nobleman  of  the  lowest  rank)  not  at  present  the  most 
renowned  man  this  century  has  produced  ;  in  fact,  no  less 
a  personage  than  Bismarck.^ 

How  vastly  different  might  have  been  the  course  of  Bis- 
marck's life,  had  the  "  no  "  been  a  "  yes  "  !  Might  not  his 
life  have  run  in  channels  far  removed  from  political  strife? 
Might  not  the  charm  of  a  country  life  at  the  side  of  his 
first  love  have  outbalanced  his  greed  of  fame?  What 
would  Prussia  have  been  without  him  ?  Would  Sadowa 
and  Sedan  have  been  the  turning-point  of  the  Father- 
land's   fate?     Would   the    little    chapel    in    Chiselhurst 

1  This  event  is  strictly  true  in  all  its  details.  Not  only  has  it  found  its  way 
into  several  books,  but  I  have  taken  occasion  to  verify  the  details  myself. 


A    VISIT  TO   A    PEASANT  V/ATERING-PLACE.      315 

have  been  the  last  resting-place  of  Napoleon?  These 
and  a  host  of  other  questions  arise  when  we  read  this 
simple  little  love  story.  Does  it  not  seem  that  the  work 
on  which  the  great  man  is  at  present  engaged  is  part  of 
an  act  of  retribution?  The  bigoted  creed  that  deprived 
him  of  his  love  seems  destined  to  fall  by  his  own  hand. 


31 6    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 


o 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    GOLDEN    EAGLE    AND    ITS  AERIE. 

NEXT  to  the  poacher,  the  golden  eagle  (yAqidla  Chrys- 
aetos)  and  the  lammergeier  {Gypaiffos  barbatus) 
are  the  two  greatest  enemies  of  the  chamois  and  roedeer. 
Far  less  noble  than  the  eagle  in  his  proportions  and  build, 
the  latter  does  not  develop  the  exclusive  appetite  for 
blood  and  live  flesh  which  distinguishes  the  eagle  among 
the  rapacious  birds  of  prey. 

The  eagle,  the  tiger  of  his  race,  bears  off  his  prey  in 
triumph.  The  geier  very  seldom  attempts  to  remove  it, 
but  devours  it  on  the  spot :  indeed,  his  grasp  is  too  fee- 
ble to  permit  him  to  manage  effectually  any  but  a  com- 
paratively trifling  weight.  The  eagle,  on  the  contrary, 
rarely  touches  carrion ;  and  his  terribly- powerful  wings 
and  talons  enable  him  to  carry  off  the  strong-limbed 
chamois,  or  a  full-grown  goat  or  sheep  weighing  consid- 
erably over  thirty  pounds. 

If  the  animal  singled  out  as  his  prey  is  too  heavy,  the 
eagle  will  sv/oop  down  upon  it  with  resistless  fury,  and  by 
mere  force  of  the  concussion  will  hurl  it  down  the  abyss 
at  the  brink  of  which  it  happened  to  graze  or  feed. 

Several  times  have  I  had  occasion  to  watch  a  golden 
eagle  carrying  off  a  young  chamois  or  roe.  The  great 
weight  of  his  prey  would  oblige  him  now  and  again  to 
loosen  his  hold  upon  it,  while  circling  at  a  terrible  height 
over  ravine  and  peak.  As  it  falls,  the  eagle  will  dart  after 
it ;  and,  catching  it  up  in  his  claws,  allow  himself  to  sink 
for  twenty  or  thirty  feet  by  the  mere  impetuosity  of  his 
downward  flight,  and  then,  spreading  his  mighty  wings  to 


THE   GOLDEN  EAGLE  AND  ITS  AERIE.      317 

tlieir  widest,  resume  his  circling  ascent  with  his  prey 
firmly  clutched. 

Tyrol,  judged  by  what  I  have  seen  of  it,  does  not  har- 
bor more  than  eight  or  ten  pairs  of  golden  eagles  ;  and 
Switzerland,  I  am  told,  is  quite  rid  of  these  noble  but 
terribly  dcstructi\-e  birds  of  prey.  The  scale  on  which  a 
pair  of  these  birds  will  carry  on  their  depredations  anion-; 
the  game  stocking  the  ravines  and  glens  near  the  site  of 
the  eagle's  home,  the  Krie,  is  incredibly  large.  Quite  a 
halo  of  celebrity  is  therefore  thi-own  about  the  lucky  shot 
who  has  brought  down  one  of  these  royal  highwaymen  of 
the  Alps.  Far  more  exciting  and  difficult  than  shooting 
is  the  extraction  of  a  }-oung  eagle  from  his  nest  or  aerie. 

Eight  or  ten  years  ago  I  assisted  in  an  attempt  to  rob 
an  eagle's  aerie  of  its  young  inhabitants,  in  a  remote  glen 
in  the  Bavarian  Highlands.  Owing  to  the  inadequacy  of 
our  means  for  approaching  the  goal,  the  attempt  failed  ; 
but  it  left  so  vivid  an  impression  on  my  mind  that  for  four 
or  five  consecutive  springs  I  was  continually  on  the  look- 
out for  a  repetition  of  this  adventurous  exploit.  The  diffi- 
culties of  tracing  one  of  the  parent-birds  home  to  the 
aerie  are,  however,  so  great,  that  the  site  of  one  of  these 
royal  homesteads  is  seldom  discovered. 

On  my  return  to  T\to1  from  a  tour  in  France  and  Spain 
in  the  first  week  of  July,  1872,  the  very  first  person  greet- 
ing me  at  Kufstein,  the  frontier  station,  was  destined  to 
be  the  bearer  of  the  most  welcome  news,  that  the  site  of 
a  golden  eagle's  aerie  had  been  discovered  in  one  of  the 
side  glens  of  the  broad  Inn  valley. 

Old  Hansel,  my  informant,  was  one  of  the  gamekeepers 
on  a  large  imperial  preserve  close  by  Kufstein.  Some 
years  previously,  I  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  shared 
a  hard  couch  v.-ith  him  under  the  stunted  pines,  when 
inopportune  night  overtook  us  high  up  in  some  Alpine 
wilderness,  or  near  the  glaciers  and  huge  snowfields,  while 
in  hot  pursuit  of  the  chamois. 

Hansel  had  heard  of  the  discovery  of  the  aerie  and  was 
just  about  to  take  train  to  the  small  railway-station,  about 
an   hour's  walk   from  the  opening  of  the  B valley, 


o 


1 8    GADDhVGS  IVITH  A   PRIMiriVE  PEOPLE. 


at  the  remotest  extremity  of  which,  some  ten  or  twelve 
hours'  walk  off,  the  terie  had  been  found. 

Telegraphing  to  my  friend,  who  was  awaiting  my  arrival 
in  Ampezzo  in  order  to  make  some  ascents  in  the  Dolo- 
mites, that  I  should  be  detained  for  three  or  four  days,  1  re- 
entered the  train  that  was  to  carry  us  to  our  destination. 

The  next  morning  long  before  sunrise  we  were  on  our 
eight-hours'  tramp  to  our  goal  for  that  day,  —  the  small 
cottage  of  a  drift-keeper,  in  close  proximity  to  the  very 
wild  and  well-nigh  inaccessible  ravine  which  was  to  be 
the  scene  of  the  coming  adventure. 

Few  of  my  fellow-travelers  of  the  day  before  would 
have  recognized  me  as  the  town-clad  through  passenger 
from  Paris  to  Kufstein.  An  old  time-worn  country-made 
shooting-coat  of  the  very  roughest  frieze ;  short  leather 
trousers,  as  patched  and  discolored  as  the  poorest  wood- 
cutter's ;  gray  stockings,  displaying  to  the  critical  glances 
of  the  natives  my  knees,  still  bronzed  from  the  exposure 
attendant  on  a  long  course  of  Alpine  climbing  in  the  pre- 
vious years  ;  and  a  seasoned  hat,  v/hich  had  been  origin- 
ally green,  then  brown,  and  had  now  turned  gray,  on  my 
head,  —  would,  I  presume,  at  least  have  rendered  recogni- 
tion a  matter  of  difficulty. 

Tonerl,  the  keeper  of  the  wood-drift,  was  an  old  ac- 
quaintance of  mine,  whose  qualities  as  a  keen  sportsman 
had  shone  forth  when,  four  or  five  years  previous  to  the 
date  of  the  present  exploit,  I  had  quartered  myself  for  a 
month  in  his  secluded  habitation  ;  spending  the  day,  and 
not  infrequently  also  the  night,  on  the  peaks  and  passes 
surrounding  his  modest  cottage.  To  buxom  Moidl,  his 
pretty  young  wife,  I  was  also  no  stranger ;  and  her  smile 
and  blush  on  welcoming  us  assured  me  that  she  still 
remembered  the  time  when,  reigning  supreme  over  her 
father's  cattle  on  a  neighboring  Alp,  she  had  ministered 
on  more  than  one  occasion  to  the  wants  of  the  young 
sportsman  who  sought  a  night's  shelter  in  her  lonesome 
chalet  (distant  at  least  five  hours'  walk  from  the  next 
human  habitation),  in  which  she,  a  young  girl  of  nineteen 
or  twenty,  did  not  shrink  from  playing  the  hermit  for  four 
or  five  months  of  the  year. 


TH&   GOLDEN  EAGLE  AXD  ITS  A E RLE.      319 

Many  a  merry  evening  had  I  spent  in  the  low,  oak- 
paneled  '"general  room"  of  Tonerl's  cottage,  when  he 
was  still  a  gay  though  middle-aged  bachelor.  No  changes 
had  since  been  made  in  the  aspect  of  the  apartment. 

In  one  corner  stood  the  huge  pile  of  pottery,  which, 
being  used  for  heating  the  room,  one  might  by  mistake 
have  termed  a  stove.  Over  this  singular  niasterpiece  of 
pottership,  about  two  feet  from  the  ceiling,  was  fixed  a 
sort  of  shelf,  four  feet  broad  and  six  long.  This  repre- 
sented the  nuptial  couch  of  the  couple.  "  In  winter,"  as 
Tonerl  laughingly  remarked,  "  it  is  warm  and  cozy ;  and 
in  summer  it  has  the  ad\-antage  of  being  a  bed  taking  up 
but  little  space."  Running  the  whole  length  of  two  walls 
of  the  room  was  a  broad  bench,  in  front  of  which  were 
placed  the  two  strong  oak  tables,  round  which,  on  Sunday 
evening,  such  of  the  woodcutters  as  were  at  work  in  the 
near  neighborhood  used  to  congregate,  to  laugh,  sing, 
and  quarrel  over  the  glasses  of  home-brewed  "  schnapps," 
which  Tonerl,  in  utter  defiance  of  the  excise-ofticers,  ven- 
tured to  sell  to  them. 

We  arrived  at  Tonerl's  cottage  just  as  they  were  begin- 
ning their  twelve-o'clock  dinner.  A  second  edition  of 
a  huge  iron  pan,  filled  with  the  savory  but  somewhat 
too  greasy  Schmarn,  very  soon  made  its  welcome  appear- 
ance. Amid  laughter  and  merriment  our  repast  came  to 
an  end ;  and  we  began  our  confab  as  to  the  best  means 
of  attaining  our  end,  viz.,  the  young  eagle. 

Two  woodcutters,  whom  we  had  found  seated  at  one 
of  the  tables  on  our  arrival,  were  dispatched  to  a  neigh- 
boring woodcutter's  hut  in  order  to  fetch  the  four  inhabit- 
ants of  the  same,  wliose  presence  at  our  consultation  was 
a  matter  of  vital  importance. 

As  it  was  Saturday,  they  had  knocked  off  work  in  the 
course  of  the  afternoon,  and  had  adjourned  to  the  hay- 
loft for  a  few  hours'  sleep,  prior  to  setting  out  for  a  poach- 
ing raid  to  the  distant  Bavarian  preserves. 

On  learning  the  object  of  my  presence,  they  immedi- 
ately hurried  down  to  1  onerl's  cottage  ;  and  half  an  hour 
later  I  was  in  possession  of  all  the  facts  and  information 


320     GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

regarding  the  whereabouts  of  the  "  horst,"  or  aerie,  the 
difncLilties  which  would  have  to  be  surmounted,  and  the 
manner  in  which  the  discovery  had  been  made. 

Their  vocation  as  woodcutters,  it  seems,  had  brought 
them,  while  decimating  a  forest  distant  about  nine  miles 
from  the  hut,  to  the  extreme  end  of  a  narrow  and  wild 
mountain  ravine,  just  opposite  the  aerie,  which,  with  the 
usual  parental  care,  was  built  in  one  of  the  small  crevices 
by  which  the  Falknerwand,  a  peak  the  side  of  which  to- 
wards the  valley  is  a  perpendicular  wall  some  900  or  1,000 
feet  in  height,  is  riven. 

The  evening  was  spent  in  discussing  the  details  of  the 
exploit,  and  getting  our  various  implements  in  order. 

We  were  up  in  the  morning  by  three,  and  an  hour  later 
we  were  ready  to  start. 

Our  force  consisted  of  six  woodcutters,  —  who  were 
only  too  glad  to  give  up  their  poaching  expedition  for  the 
more  exciting  one  on  which  we  were  now  bent,  —  Tonerl, 
Hansel,  and  myself.  After  shouting  a  last  jodler  to 
his  wife,  who  returned  the  greeting  with  her  clear,  bell- 
like voice,  though  her  heart  was  doubtless  beating  fast 
under  her  smartly-laced  bodice  as  she  waved  us  a  last 
adieu,  Tonerl  took  the  lead  of  our  long  file. 

Three  hours  later  we  had  reached  the  base  of  the  wall, 
the  site  of  the  aerie.  I  immediately  saw  that,  besides 
being  a  more  adventurous  affair  than  I  had  anticipated, 
nothing  could  be  done  from  this  side  of  the  peak.  Indeed, 
the  precipice  seemed  not  only  perpendicular,  but  actually 
inclining  forward  in  its  upper  part ;  and  this  impression 
seemed  to  be  borne  out  by  the  fact  of  our  finding,  close 
to  the  base,  numerous  blackened  remains  of  fires  which 
had  been  lit  under  the  shelter  of  the  cliffs  by  belated 
keepers,  or,  what  seemed  even  more  probable,  by  poachers. 

By  a  circuit  of  considerable  length  we  finally  gained  the 
summit  of  the  peak,  and,  throwing  down  our  various  bur- 
dens, we  began  to  reconnoiter  the  terrain,  which  we  did 
ventre  a  tcrre,  bending  over  the  cliff  as  far  as  we  dared. 

Great  was  our  dismay  on  perceiving,  some  eighty  or 
ninety  feet  liclow  us,  that  a  narrow  rocky  ledge,  which  had 


THE   GOLDEN  EAGLE   AND   ITS  AERIE.      321 

escaped  our  notice  when  looking  up  from  the  foot  of  the 
chff,  projected  sheh'-h'ke  from  the  face  of  the  precipice, 
and  shut  out  ah  view  of  the  crevice  which  we  supposed 
contained  the  aerie. 

After  consuUing  some  time  we  decided  to  lower  our- 
selves down  to  this  rock  band,  and  make  it  the  base  of 
our  further  movements,  instead  of  operating,  as  we  had 
intended,  from  the  crest  of  the  cliff,  where  every  thing, 
but  for  this  obstacle,  would  have  been  tenfold  easier. 
Posting  one  of  the  men  at  the  top  of  the  crag  to  lower 
our  heavy  fifty-fathom  half-inch  rope  by  a  cord,  after  we 
had  gained  the  ledge,  we  descended  one  by  one,  hand 
over  hand,  to  the  site  of  the  coming  exploit. 

The  ledge  was  of  varying  breadth  :  in  some  places  it 
was  less  than  two  feet,  in  others  again  it  widened  to  about 
seven  or  eight  feet ;  but  at  the  place  right  over  the  crev- 
ice, where  the  men  handling  the  rope  had  to  take  up  their 
position,  it  was  from  three  to  four  feet  in  width.  Of 
course  this  was  a  somewhat  embarrassing  circumstance, 
necessitating  extreme  caution  in  all  our  movements,  be- 
sides causing  the  disagreeable  feeling  of  standing  at  the 
very  edge  of  a  yawning  gulf  some  eight  hundred  feet  in 
depth,  and  nothing  to  lay  hold  of  for  support  but  the 
smooth  face  of  the  rock. 

We  had  lowered  ourselves  in  the  order  which  the  men 
had  to  occupy  during  the  ensuing  operations.  First  came 
Hansel,  then  the  five  remaining  woodcutters,  then  myself, 
and  finally  Tonerl,  the  first  and  the  last  provided  with 
their  rifles. 

On  reaching  the  ledge  we  immediately  began  operations 
by  driving  a  strong  iron  hook  into  the  solid  rock  at  a 
point  some  two  or  three  feet  above  the  ledge.  Through 
this  hook  the  rope  was  passed,  one  end  pendent  over  the 
cliff;  and  to  obviate  the  peril  of  its  being  frayed  and 
speedily  severed  by  the  sharp  outer  edge  of  our  platform, 
we  rigged  up  a  block  of  wood  with  some  iron  stays,  to 
serve  as  an  immovable  pulley.  By  means  of  the  hook  the 
rope  was  directed  sideways  to  the  spot  where  the  men 
told  off  for  pulling  were  standing  in  single  file,  a  space  of 
about  three  feet  between  each. 


322     GADDINGS  V/ITII  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

After  completing  our  arrangements  I  turned  my  atten- 
tion to  the  broad  leather  belt,  similar  to  the  one  worn  by 
our  fire-brigade  men,  that  was  to  fasten  me  to  the  rope. 

To  fasten  the  belt  round  my  waist,  to  run  the  rope 
through  the  strong  iron  ring  in  front  of  it,  and  knot  it 
securely  to  a  strong  piece  of  wood,  my  seat,  were  our 
next  proceedings.  This  manner  of  fastening  one's  self  to 
a  rope  is  preferable  to  the  orthodox  way  of  binding  waist 
and  both  legs  to  the  rope,  as  it  impedes  free  movement 
far  less ;  and  even  if  I  were  to  slip  off  my  wooden  horse, 
I  could  not  fall,  the  wood  preventing  the  rope  from  pass- 
ing through  the  ring. 

A  large  hunting-knife  was  in  my  belt,  a  small  but  pow- 
erful Smith  revolver  in  my  pocket,  and  in  my  hand  a  long 
pole,  shod  with  iron  at  one  end,  and  at  the  other  fitted 
with  a  strong  boat-hook,  which  we  had  forged  the  night 
before  in  the  miniature  smithy  of  Tonerl's  cottage. 

The  five  woodcutters  took  hold  of  the  rope,  while  the 
two  keepers,  ventre  a  terre,  began  their  duties  as  my 
guardian  angels  by  cocking  their  trusty  rifles,  in  case  of 
any  attack  of  the  old  eagles  while  I  was  engaged  in  my 
work  of  spoliation.  On  their  watchfulness  and  on  their 
unerring  aim  my  life  would,  in  case  of  such  an  emer- 
gency, depend,  just  as  much  as  on  the  muscular  arms  of 
the  five  shaggy-headed  woodcutters. 

Laying  hold  of  the  pole,  I  gave  myself  a  gentle  push, 
which  sent  me  clear  of  the  edge  into  space.  Although  it 
was  not  the  first  time  I  had  been  in  a  similar  position, 
the  prodigious  height  was,  for  the  first  two  or  three  min- 
utes, not  without  a  sort  of  exciting  effect  on  my  nerves. 

Five  minutes  later  I  had  quite  recovered  ;  and,  hang- 
ing on  a  rope,  scarcely  thicker  than  a  man's  finger,  over 
an  abyss  of  nearly  i,ooo  feet  in  depth,  I  enjoyed  the 
novel  position.  Any  new  and  hitherto  unknown  sense 
of  danger  charms  the  minds  of  men  fond  of  rough  Alpine 
climbing  and  mountaineering  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
word. 

The  descent  lasted  not  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  min- 
utes ;  and  when  I  arrived  opposite  the  crevice,  where  the 


THE   GOLD  EX  EAGLE  AND   ITS  AERIE.      323 

existence  of  the  aerie  was  plainly  indicated  by  a  mass  of 
dry  sticks  and  refuse  of  all  kinds  strewn  about,  I  stopped 
further  progress  by  two  distinct  jerks  at  the  signal-line. 

The  distance  separating  me  from  the  aerie  was,  owing 
to  the  projecting  nature  of  the  ledge  on  which  the  men 
holding  me  were  standing,  and  to  the  overhanging  for- 
mation of  the  entire  precipice,  some  ten  or  twelve  feet ; 
but  by  the  use  of  my  pole,  the  hook  of  which  I  caught 
on  a  projecting  stone,  this  difficulty  was  soon  o\-ercome. 

At  first  the  bulwark  of  dry  sticks,  the  interstices  be- 
tween them  being  filled  with  dry  moss,  prevented  my 
seeing  any  thing.  Cautiously  crawling  up  an  inclined 
slab  of  rock  that. led  to  the  aerie,  and  slowly  raising  my 
head  over  the  side  of  the  latter,  while  with  my  right  hand 
I  guarded  my  head  and  face  against  any  attempt  of  the 
young  eagle  to  attack  me,  I  looked  in.  My  surprise  and 
pleasure  on  finding  not  one,  but  two  young  eagles  therein, 
may  be  imagined. 

A  peal  of  shrill  shrieks,  and  sundry  rather  ominous- 
sounding  hisses,  greeted  my  unlooked-for  appearance. 

Vainly  flapping  their  enormous  wings,  while  with  their 
small  but  inexpressibly  wild  eyes  they  kept  staring  at 
me,  they  opened  their  beaks  —  hooked  at  the  end,  and 
already  of  an  alarming  size  and  strength  —  to  their  widest 
extent,  plainly  indicating  that  their  breakfast-hour  was 
nigh. 

Detaching  from  my  seat  the  stout  canvas  bag  with 
which  I  had  provided  myself,  I  proceeded  to  bag  one  of 
my  young  prisoners.  While  he  was  yet  struggling  in  the 
ample  folds  of  the  bag  which  I  had  thrown  over  his  head, 
I  pinioned  his  formidable  talons,  and  then,  unbagging 
him,  I  proceeded  to  secure  his  wings  and  beak  by  means 
of  a  piece  of  cord.  I  then  deposited  him  in  the  bag, 
which,  although  a  good-sized  one,  he  entirely  filled  out, 
thus  excluding  the  idea  of  putting  the  other  bird  into  the 
same  receptacle.  As  it  is  a  rare  occurrence  that  two 
young  eagles  are  found  in  one  aerie,  I  was  unprovided 
with  a  second  bag,  and  consequently  was  placed  in  a  fix 
regarding   the  means  of  securing  my  second   prisoner. 


3=4     GADDIXGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

After  a  good  many  ineffectual  trials,  I  at  last  managed  to 
secure  him  by  flinging  my  coat  over  him,  and  then  slip- 
ping a  running-noose  over  his  feet,  after  which  it  was 
easy  enough  to  bind  and  prevent  him  from  doing  any 
mischief. 

The  bag  containing  the  first  bird  I  tied  to  the  signal- 
cord  hanging  by  my  side  :  the  other  I  resolved  to  carry 
up  in  my  hand,  there  being  little  danger  of  his  hurting 
me  if  the  cords  of  his  shackles  held  out  against  his  vigor- 
ous efforts  to  get  free. 

I  was  glad  to  get  out  of  the  aerie  after  having  brought 
my  expedition  to  this  successful  termination ;  for  the 
stench  created  by  the  putrefying  flesh  strewn  by  the  parent- 
birds  about  the  adjacent  rocks  was  something  dreadful 
and  overpowing  to  any  senses  more  delicate  than  those 
of  a  bird  of  prey.  These  relics,  which  I  had  the  curios- 
ity to  count,  consisted  of  a  half-devoured  carcass  of  a 
chamois,  three  pairs  of  chamois-horns,  with  correspond- 
ing bones  of  the  animals,  the  skeleton  of  a  goat  picked 
clean,  the  remains  of  an  Alpine  hare,  and  the  head  and 
neck  of  a  fawn.  Arranging  myself  on  my  seat,  I  fixed 
the  hook  of  my  pole  in  its  old  place,  and  gave  the  signal 
to  hoist  me  up.  The  bird  I  held  in  my  left  hand,  while 
v,'ith  my  right  I  intended  to  let  myself  gradually  swing 
out  till  I  reached  the  perpendicular  position. 

As  the  sequel  shows,  I  had  reckoned  without  my  host. 
The  first  hard  pull  of  the  men  at  the  rope,  nearly  two 
hundred  feet  over  my  head,  which,  contrary  to  my  instruc- 
tions, was  much  too  vigorous,  wrenched  the  pole  out  of 
my  grasp,  sending  the  latter  to  the  bottom  of  the  preci- 
pice, and  me  at  a  fearful  pace  outwards.  My  position 
was,  as  anybody  can  imagine,  most  dangerous.  The  ve- 
locity of  the  retrograde  movement  would  dash  me  with 
terrible  force  against  the  solid  wall  of  the  roc:k.  There 
was  only  one  way,  and  that  a  very  dubious  one,  of  saving 
myself.  Fortunately  my  presence  of  mind  did  not  forsake 
me  in  this  critical  moment,  and  I  grasped  at  this  only 
chance  of  preserving  m.y  life  and  limbs.  Tilting  the  up- 
per part  of  my  body  backward  and  my  legs  forward,  I 


THE   GOLDEX  EAGLE  AXD   ITS  AERIE.      325 

awaited  the  dreaded  shock,  taking,  of  course,  the  chance 
of  my  striking  the  rock  feet  foremost  as  the  only  way  of 
saving  myself. 

The  retrograde  movement  of  the  pendulum,  to  which 
my  weight  supplied  the  velocity,  set  in,  and  a  second 
afterwards  I  wr.s  saved,  having  struck  the  rock  v/ith  my 
feet,  which,  well  protected  as  they  were  by  my  immensely 
heavy  iron-shod  shoes,  were  the  only  part  of  my  body 
which  could  have  effectually  resisted  the  shock.  The 
only  bad  result  of  the  contact  with  the  rock  was  a  par- 
alyzed feeling  in  my  legs,  and  a  prickling  sensation  in  my 
back  and  loins. 

Need  I  say  how  thankful  I  was  that  I  had  not  followed 
the  promptings  of  my  companions  to  take  off,  before  leav- 
ing the  ledge,  my  shoes  and  stockings,  in  order  to  facili- 
tate the  climbing,  which,  as  we  supposed,  would  be  a 
matter  of  necessity  to  enable  me  to  reach  the  aerie  ? 

For  what  reason  I  refused  to  follow  this  advice,  and  do 
a  thing  which,  in  the  course  of  my  chamois-stalking  ex- 
perience, I  had  done  so  very  often,  is  a  mystery  vv'hich  I 
do  not  care  to  solve  ;  the  fact  of  my  life  having  been  thus 
saved  being  sufficient  for  me. 

\'\'hilc  the  above  incident  occuired  I  had  remarked  that 
a  dark  object  had  flashed  past  me,  so  close  that  I  dis- 
tinctly felt  the  pressure  of  the  air,  and  heard  the  whistling 
sound  it  created,  as  of  falling  from  seemingly  a  great 
height.  Thinking  it  was  a  stone,  I  paid  no  further  heed 
to  it,  my  attention  being  moreover  attracted  to  a  sharpish 
gash  in  my  thigh,  which  the  bird  placed  under  my  arm  had 
managed  to  inflict,  although  his  beak  was  bound  vWth  my 
pocket-handkerchief.  Some  loose  gunpowder  streu'n  into 
the  Avound  was  an  effectual  if  somewhat  painful  cure ; 
and  it  was  only  after  having  applied  it  that  I  remarked 
that,  instead  of  being  pulled  upwards,  I  was  quite  sta- 
tionary. 

It  appeared  afterwards  that  the  object  which  flashed 
past  me  a  few  minutes  before  was  the  block  over  which 
the  rope  ran,  and  which  was  of  vital  importance  in  secur- 
ing my  safety.     This  of  course  I  did  not  know  at  the  time, 


o 


26     GADDINGS    WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 


and  consequently  my  anxiety  gi-ew  from  minute  to  minute. 
An  iiour  and  then  anotlier  passed,  and  still  I  remained  in 
my  most  helpless  position. 

The  boulder  of  rock,  projecting  a  few  feet  over  my 
head,  prevented  any  view  of  the  ledge ;  and  my  shouts 
asking  the  cause  of  the  delay  received  indistinct  answers, 
the  vi'Ords  "  patience  "  and  "  wait"  being  the  only  intelli- 
gible ones. 

These  words  might  have  been  consoling,  but  for  the 
fact  that  Nature,  to  cool  my  impatience  and  make  my 
position  more  ridiculous  in  her  eyes,  destined  me  for  a 
cold  bath,  the  water  being  supplied  by  one  of  those  short 
but  terribly  grand  thunder-storms,  v/hich  victimize  Alpine 
regions  in  summer-time. 

JVIy  position  exposed  me  to  its  full  fury,  without  any 
possibility  of  escape  ;  and  ere  long  it  burst  over  my  head, 
drenching  me  to  my  skin  in  the  first  five  minutes,  while 
the  lightning  played  about  rae  in  every  direction,  and  ter- 
rific claps  of  thunder  foUov.^ed  each  other  at  intervals  of 
scarcely  a  few  seconds. 

What  heightened  the  danger  as  well  as  tlie  absurdity 
of  my  situation  was  the  chance  that  one  or  both  of  the 
old  eagles  might  return  at  any  mom.ent,  under  circum- 
stances that  must  render  a  struggle,  if  any  ensued,  a  most 
unequal  one.  Supposing  my  guardians  to  be  still  at  their 
post,  the  distance  of  the  ledge  v/as  such  as  to  make  a  shot 
at  a  flying  bird,  large  as  it  might  be,  any  thing  but  a  sure 
one  ;  and  the  tactics  of  the  golden  eagle,  when  defending 
its  home,  do  not  allow  of  any  second  attempt.  A  speck 
is  seen  on  the  horizon,  and  the  next  moment  the  pov/erful 
bird  is  down  with  one  fell  swoop.  A  flap  with  its  strong 
wings,  and  the  unhappy  victim  is  stunned,  and  immedi- 
ately ripped  open  from  his  chest  to  his  hip,  while  his 
skull  is  cleft  or  fractured  by  a  single  blow  of  the  tremen- 
dous beak.  Instances  are  however  known  in  which  the 
cool,  self-possessed  "  pendant "  has  shot  or  cut  down  his 
foe  at  the  very  instant  of  the  encounter.  Happily  my  ov/n 
powers  were  not  put  to  so  severe  a  test :  the  old  birds 
were  that  day  far  off,  circling  probably  in  majestic  swoops 
over  some  distant  valley  or  gorge. 


THE   GOLDEX  EAGLE   AXD   ITS  AERIE.      327 

I  was  forced,  however,  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert ; 
and  my  impatience  and  perplexity  may  be  imagined  as 
hours  elapsed,  and  there  were  still  no  signs  of  my  ap- 
proaching deliverance.  The  storm  had  long  since  passed 
over,  and  darkness  was  settling  down,  when  I  felt  a  pull  at 
the  rope,  and  my  ascent,  begun  nearly  four  hours  before, 
again  v/ent  on. 

It  was  of  the  utmost  importance  that  the  whole  party 
should  regain  the  top  of  the  cliff  before  night  had  fairly 
set  in  :  I  therefore  deferred,  on  my  arrival  at  the  ledge, 
all  questions  till  we  had  gained  a  place  of  safety.  The 
heavy  rope,  fastened  to  the  cord,  was  hauled  up  by  the 
man  on  the  top,  and  after  it  had  been  secured  to  a  tree- 
stump  we  swarmed  up  without  loss  of  time. 

We  had  still  before  us  a  somev/hat  perilous  scramble  in 
the  darkness  down  the  steep  incline  ;  but  the  e:¥^haustion 
attendant  upon  the  fatigues  and  privations  \-iQ  had  under- 
gone made  it  necessary  that  we  should  first  recruit  our 
strength  by  means  of  the  food  and  bottle  of  schnapps  we 
had  brought  with  us.  While  v/e  were  doing  justice  to  the 
bread  and  bacon,  and  taking  gulps  of  undiluted  spirits, 
the  tale  of  the  different  mishaps  of  the  day  was  told,  now 
by  one,  now  by  another,  of  the  sufferers. 

It  seems  that  as  soon  as  the  accident  which  sent  the 
block  to  the  bottom  of  the  Falknerv/and  v/as  perceived  by 
the  men  engaged  in  hoisting  me  up  hand  over  hand,  they 
desisted  from  their  task,  lest  the  rope,  now  unprotected, 
should  be  injured  by  the  sharp-edged  stones,  and  thus 
place  my  life  in  imminent  danger.  They  communi- 
cated th.e  mishap  to  the  man  on  the  top  of  the  cliff,  who 
immediately  went  to  get  a  substitute.  Descending  to  the 
base  of  the  peak,  he  felled  a  young  tree,  and  shaped  a 
block  similar  to  the  one  lost.  As  he  was  returning  to  the 
crest  of  the  Falknerwand  with  the  block  on  his  shoulder, 
the  thunderstorm  overtook  him ;  and  one  of  the  vivid 
flashes  of  lightning  playing  around  him  cleft  and  splintered 
a  rock,  weighing  hundreds  of  tons,  that  had  stood  within 
thirty  paces  of  him.  He  received  no  injury,  except  being 
thrown  on  the  ground,  and  partially  stunned  by  the  tern- 


328     GADDIA'GS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 


J 


ble  concussion  ;  but  it  was  not  till  after  a  considerable 
time  that  he  was  able  to  rise  and  continue  his  ascent. 
What  would  have  become  of  us,  and  me  in  particular,  had 
the  man  been  killed  by  the  lightning,  it  is  difficult  to  say ; 
most  probably  starvation  would  have  been  our  fate.  The 
next  human  habitation,  excepting  old  Tonerl's  cottage, 
was  eight  or  nine  hours'  walk  from  the  Falknerwand  ;  and 
as  Tonerl's  wife  did  not  know  the  direction  of  the  aerie, 
the  chances  of  her  finding  us  in  time  for  mortal  help  were 
small,  —  indeed,  so  small  that  when  I  hinted  the  thought 
to  my  sturdy  companions,  the  momentary  gloom  and  dark 
frown  on  their  shaggy  brows  told  me  but  too  plainly  that 
they  concurred  in  my  dark  anticipation. 

Our  meal  ended,  we  placed  our  pinioned  prisoners  in 
a  large  hamper  specially  provided  for  their  transport,  and 
after  some  trouble  contrived  to  manufacture  two  torches, 
in  the  ruddy  glare  of  which  we  wended  our  steps  down 
the  steep  incline  to  the  bottom  of  the  Falknerwand. 

From  some  dry  wood  found  beneath  the  sheltering  pre- 
cipice, we  made  some  more  torches,  and  finally  reached 
Tonerl's  cottage  at  a  late  hour,  rather  worn  and  hungry, 
but  highly  satisfied  with  our  success. 

A  steaming  "  Schmarn  "  and  "  Speck  "  (bacon)  —  the 
latter  a  great  treat  for  the  men  —  soon  appeased  our  hun- 
ger ;  the  thirst,  however,  seemed  to  me  to  be  of  a  more 
formidable  nature,  for  it  was  close  upon  two  o'clock  when 
the  last  touch  on  the  chords  of  the  "  Zither,"  which  ac- 
companied the  final  "  Schnaddahiipfler,"  sent  us  up  our 
ladder  to  the  hayloft. 

On  my  return  next  morning  from  my  morning  stalk, 
with  a  roebuck  on  my  back,  I  had  full  leisure  to  look  at 
the  young  eagles,  who,  released  from  their  shackles,  had 
been  placed  in  a  small  barn,  the  door  of  which  had  been 
unhinged,  and  in  its  stead  stout  wooden  laths  fixed  across 
the  opening.  Before  their  fetters  were  untied,  the  wings 
had  been  measured,  those  of  the  hen-bird  being  fully  two 
or  three  inches  larger  than  the  wings  of  the  cock-bird, 
though  the  latter  had  the  finer  head.  The  hen-bird 
measured  six  feet  eleven  inches  in  the  span,  and  when 


THE   GOLDEN  EAGLE  AND  ITS  AERIE.     3:^9 

full  grown  the  breadth  would  very  probably  reach  eight 
feet,  or  eight  feet  six  inches. 

The  '•'  Aufbruch,"  or  entrails  of  my  buck,  together  with 
two  live  rabbits,  furnished  a  luxurious  breakfast  for  the 
young  captives.  The  rapidity  with  wliich  it  was  dis- 
patched made  old  Tonerl,  who  was  standing  at  my  side 
watching  the  proceedings,  shake  his  head,  and  ask  me 
how  on  earth  he  could  find  the  wherev/ithal  to  feed  these 
two  voracious  babies. 

A  week  after  their  capture  they  were  "  feathered  "  for 
the  first  time.  This  process  consists  in  pulling  out  the 
long,  down-like  plumes  on  the  under  side  of  the  strong 
tail-feathers.  These  plumes,  which,  if  taken  from  a  full- 
grown  eagle,  frequently  measure  seven  or  eight  inches  in 
length,  are  highly  prized  by  the  Tyrolese  peasants,  but 
still  more  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  neighboring  Bavarian 
Highlands,  who  do  not  hesitate  to  expend  a  month's 
wages  in  the  purchase  of  two  or  three,  with  which  to 
adorn  their  hats,  or  those  of  their  sweethearts. 

The  value  of  a  crop  of  plumes  varies  somewhat ;  gen- 
erally, however,  an  eagle  yields  about  forty  florins'  (;/,'4.) 
worth  of  plumes  per  annum. 

Six  weeks  after  this  incident  I  again  found   my  way 

into   the   secluded    B valley,    and    found    that   the 

hen-bird  had  been  sold  to  a  neighboring  head-keeper  of 
a  large  ducal  preserve,  for  forty-five  florins  {£,\.  loj-.) 
The  cock-bird  I  found  alive  and  kicking.  Being  curious 
to  see  if  his  confinement  had  subdued  his  wild  and  fero- 
cious spirit,  I  removed  one  of  the  laths,  and  entered  the 
barn.  An  angry  hiss,  similar  to  that  of  a  snake,  warned 
me  of  danger,  but  too  late  to  save  my  hands  from  severe 
scratches.  With  one  bound  and  a  flap  of  his  gigantic 
wings  he  was  on  me  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  Tonerl, 
who  was  standing  just  behind  me  armed  with  a  stout  cud- 
gel, I  should  have  paid  dearly  for  my  visit. 

'Fonerl's  predecessor,  an  old  man  when  tlie  latter  suc- 
ceeded him  in  office,  knew  of  but  one  single  family  of 
eagles,  though  earlier  the  Vomperloch  very  likely  gave 
shelter  to  many  a  couple  of   these  noble   birds.      The 


33'^     GADDINGS  ]VITH  A   PKLMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

aerie  of  this  single  family,  however,  neither  he  nor  Tonerl 
could  discover.  Often  and  often  had  both  these  veteran 
sportsmen  sacrificed  a  night's  rest  in  order  to  be  out  on 
some  prominent  point  long  before  daybreak  to  watch  the 
movements  of  the  paternal  birds  as  they  proceeded  to 
feed  their  voracious  offspring.  But  it  was  just  as  if  a 
telegraphic  dispatch  had  warned  the  sly  old  robbers  of 
their  foe  :  the  eagles  were  sure  to  remain  invisible  that 
morning,  much  to  the  annoyance,  as  we  may  suppose,  of 
their  famished  progeny.  Tonerl,  who  vv'ould  have  given 
a  good  deal  to  discover  the  object  of  his  highest  ambi- 
tion, even  went  as  far  as  to  stop  out  two  days  running,  at 
a  period  of  the  year  —  the  beginning  of  July  —  when 
the  young  birds  must  have  been  very  nearly  fledged,  and 
hence  developing  an  appetite  truly  amazing.  But  be  it 
that  the  eagles'  larder  was  well  stocked,  or  that  the  par- 
ents half  starved  their  young  ones  rather  than  betray  the 
site  of  the  aerie,  certain  it  is  that  up  to  the  year  i863 
no  one  ever  knew  the  exact  locality  of  the  robbers'  den. 
In  that  year,  on  one  of  the  last  da3's  of  June,  Tonerl  by 
dint  of  constant  watching  at  last  succeeded  in  discover- 
ing the  aerie's  site,  and  for  three  consecutive  days  did  he, 
aided  by  six  or  seven  men,  endeavor  to  get  at  the  nest. 
The  third  day,  after  endless  trouble  and  danger,  he  got 
within  reach,  and  was  hauled  up  with  the  young  eagle  — 
measuring  close  upon  seven  feet  span  —  securely  shackled 
in  his  hands.  The  young  prisoner  was  transported  to  one 
of  the  keeper's  cottages,  and  placed  in  a  large  covered 
pigsty.  At  first  he  flourished  ;  but  one  day  the  door  of 
his  cage  was  left  ajar,  and  he  got  at  some  water,  which, 
so  I  was  told  by  the  keeper,  brought  about  his  death. 
I  have  been  assured  by  several  people,  who  had  had  ex- 
perience with  the  treatment  of  golden  eagles,  that  water 
to  them  is  a  deadly  poison.  If  this  be  really  the  case,  — 
a  fact  which  I  have  not  assured  myself  of,  —  it  would  be 
a  strange  phenomenon  in  natural  history,  and  one  that 
deserves  investigation.  The  next  year  the  parent-birds 
built  their  aerie  on  a  spot  of  easier  approach,  and  the 
young  heir  to  the  Vomperloch  domain  was  again  cap- 


THE   GOLDEX  EAGLE  AA'D   ITS  AEKIE.     33 1 

tured,  this  time  by  tlie  head  Jiiger,  Leiter,  who  hke  To- 
nerl,  had  to  be  let  down  attached  to  a  long  heavy  rope. 
The  young  captive  survived  for  nearly  a  year.  In  the 
turmoil  of  a  fire  in  the  keeper's  house,  where  he  was 
confined,  he  mysteriously  disappeared. 

The  two  captures,  following  as  they  did  closel)-  upon 
each  other,  served  as  a  warning  to  the  old  bii'ds ;  and 
not  for  four  years  afterward  was  the  aerie  discovered.  At 
last,  in  the  spring  of  1S73,  it  was  detected  by  a  young 
Jiiger,  in  a  minute  cleft  in  the  middle  of  a  stupendous 
precipice  some  five  hundred  feet  high.  I  heard  of  the 
discovery  in  time  to  attend  the  attack ;  but  though  my 
eagerness  to  participate  was  wrought  to  a  high  pitch  by 
my  having  quite  recently  played  a  conspicuous  part  in  a 
similar  exploit  in  another  part  of  the  country,  as  just 
narrated,  I  was  unfoitunately  compelled  to  remain  a 
mere  looker-on  from  below ;  for  I  had  neglected  to  take 
my  crampons,  and  the  ascent  proved  to  be  such  a  stiflish 
bit  of  work,  that  I  dared  not  follow  my  companions,  who 
were  all  armed  v,'ith  this  essential  help  in  rock-climbing. 
The  attempt  proved  quite  a  success  ;  for  two  young  eagles 
were  captured  by  the  intrepid  keeper,  who  was  let  down 
the  giddy  height. 

The  very  next  year  witnessed  the  destruction  of  the 
whole  family.  The  male  eagle  was  shot  by  the  same 
Jager  who  had  robbed  his  home  the  year  before,  while 
the  female  bird,  the  larger  of  the  two,  and  a  splendid 
specimen,  measuring  close  upon  nine  feet  in  the  span, 
was  trapped.  This  occurred  a  few  days  before  the  young 
birds  were  fledged ;  but  nobody  knew  the  exact  locality 
of  the  aerie.  By  dint  of  constant  watching,  it  was  finally 
discovered  by  the  cries  of  the  famished  young  ones. 
The  site,  however,  was  so  ingeniously  chosen  by  the  par- 
ent-birds, that  approach  was  impossible.  The  aerie  was 
built  in  the  middle  of  a  very  high  wall,  the  top  of  which 
projected  so  far  out  tliat  a  distance  of  at  least  thirty  feet 
intervened  between  the  aerie  itself  and  the  man  who,  on 
being  let  down,  reached  its  level.  Nothing  was  left  but 
to  shoot  the  young  inmates  from  the  opposite  heights. 


332     GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

The  distance  being  very  great,  a  considerable  number  of 
shots  were  fired  into  the  aerie.  The  deadly  effect  of  the 
bullets  could  be  easily  seen  by  the  aid  of  a  telescope  ; 
and  when  finally  both  young  eagles  were  lying  stretched 
out,  with  their  heads  hanging  over  the  bulwark  of  boughs 
that  formed  the  sides  of  the  nest,  the  successful  party  left 
the  site  of  their  exploit. 

What  was  the  astonishment  of  one  of  their  number,  on 
casually  visiting  that  neighborhood,  about  a  week  later,  to 
hear  both  young  eagles  crying  vociferously  for  food  !  The 
young  dodgers  had  evidently  simulated  death,  and  had 
thus  gained  a  respite  of  some  days.  This  time  their  fate 
was  more  disastrous  than  before  ;  for  my  friend's  sure 
rifle  picked  them  off  very  quickly,  and  so  exterminated 
an  ancient  and  noble  race,  whose  ancestors  for  centuries 
had  made  the  Vomperloch  their  home. 

I  know  of  no  instance  in  which  human  skill  has  sub- 
dued, in  the  slightest  degree,  the  haughty  spirit  of  the 
free-born  golden  eagle.  An  untamable  ferocity  is  the 
predominating  characteristic  of  this  noble  bird,  more  than 
of  any  other  animal.  Circling  majestically  among  the 
fleeting  clouds,  he  reigns  lord  paramount  over  his  vast 
domain,  avoiding  the  sight  and  resenting  the  approach 
of  man. 


AA'  ALPINE    WALK.  ZZZ 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

AN   ALPINE   WALK. 

THE  Vomperloch  ^  and  its  many  branch  glens  are,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  very  few  who  have  ever  visited 
our  favorite  mountain  haunt,  the  most  remarkable  local- 
ity for  barren  wildness  of  scenery  in  the  whole  range  of 
the  North  Tyrolese  Alps. 

It  is  a  grand  wilderness  of  stupendous  crags,  huge 
walls  of  rock  i)iled  upon  each  other,  their  pinnacles. 
thousands  of  feet  overhead,  crowned  by  needle-shaped 
spires  and  the  boldest  ridges.  The  whole  territory  is  cut 
up  by  a  number  of  ravines  of  apparently  unfathomable 
depth.  Entering  one  of  these  —  "  Graben  "  as  they  are 
called  in  the  local  idiom  —  by  the  narrow  portal,  invisi- 
ble till  one  is  quite  close  to  it,  you  hold  your  breath, 
over-awed  by  the  grand  solitude,  by  the  terrible  barren- 
ness, by  the  death-like  silence  that  reigns  around. 
Wherever  you  glance,  you  see  naught  but  huge  cliffs 
rising  heavenwards  :  no  tree  or  patch  of  green  breaks 
the  ashy  tint  of  the  rock.  You  are  cut  off  from  the  world. 
You  look  around,  startled  perhaps  by  the  hoarse  shriek 
of  the  golden  eagle,  the  monarch  over  all  you  see,  as  he 
holds  a  survey  over  his  vast  domain,  sweeping  in  majestic 
circles  high,  high  overhead. 

You  pick  your  way  over  huge  boulders,  over  water-worn 
stones,  marking  the  course  of  the  fierce  torrent,  that  evil 
first-born  of  an  Alpine  thunderstorm,  when,  brooking  no 

1  Situated  in  the  heart  of  the  wild  chalk  chain,  variously  called  Northern  Chalk 
Alps,  Karawendcl  Gebirg,  &c.,  in  formation  very  similar  to  the  much  better  known 
Dolomite  range  in  South  Tyrol. 


334    GAD  DINGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

resistance,  massive  pieces  of  rock  share  the  fate  of  the 
smallest  pebble,  and  are  piled  over  each  other  in  fantastic 
array. 

Presently  you  come  to  a  standstill :  the  sinooth  surface 
of  a  rock  of  wall  stares  you  in  the  face,  and  blocks  up 
the  passage. 

Perchance,  if  you  are  a  good  climber,  and  do  not 
shrink  to  divest  yourselves  of  shoes  and  stockings,  or  if 
you  have  a  trusty  pair  of  crampons  buckled  to  your  boots, 
you  can  manage  to  scramble  up  the  high  perpendicular 
wall.  You  have  reached  the  top.  You  gaze  in  amaze- 
ment around  you  :  a  second  "  Graben,"  precisely  similar 
to  the  one  you  have  just  left,  opens  out  before  your  eyes. 
Prompted  by  a  vague  sense  of  mystery,  you  proceed  on' 
your  journey  of  investigation.  The  bleached  bones  of  a 
chamois,  picked  clean  by  the  eagle,  who  also  was  most 
probably  its  murderer,  meets  your  gaze.  You  shudder, 
as  you  remember  that,  were  you  to  perish  in  this  desolate 
wilderness,  a  similar  fate  would  befall  your  corpse.  And 
how  easily  an  accident  could  occur  to  you  !  A  slip,  a 
boulder  crushing  against  your  feet,  a  sudden  giddiness,  or 
a  fall  down  some  small  height  sufficient  to  break  your  leg 
or  to  sprain  your  ankle,  and  you  would  be  lost,  —  lost  as 
surely  as  had  you  tumbled  down  that  precipice,  six  times 
church-steeple  deep.  And  far  better  had  it  been  for  you 
to  be  lying  there,  an  ill-shapen  mass  of  flesh  and  splin- 
tered bones,  than  to  linger  on  in  the  fearful  agonies  of 
death  by  stan^ation,  to  hear  the  monotonous  shriek  of  the 
eagle,  as  from  day  to  day  you  watch  him  circling  nearer 
and  nearer,  kept  off  but  by  the  wild  movements  of  your 
arms.  Lucky  are  you,  if  your  rifle  has  escaped  injury,  and 
you  can  put  an  end  to  your  misery,  when  once  the  fierce 
pangs  of  hunger  become  unbearable,  or  your  senses  are 
veiled  by  delirium.  "  Why  suffer  these  fearful  tortures 
when  a  touch  on  a  finely-set  hair-trigger  effectually  ends 
your  agony?     Another  twelve   hours  you  will  wait,  and 

then" None  but  those  who   have   lived   through 

hours  and  days  of  this  supreme  mental  anguish,  who  have 
clutched  the  rifle  as  they  would  clutch    the    hand  that 


AN  ALPINE    V/ALK.  335 

saved  from  drowning,  can  realize  the  agony,  of  hope- 
less hope.  It  is  in  places  like  this  that  the  chamois- 
hunter's  heart  beats  with  freshening  vigor.  To  none  but 
him  does  the  supreme  silence,  the  ghastly  barrenness, 
partake  not  of  the  terrible.  To  the  painter,  to  the  poet, 
to  the  tourist,  and  to  the  mountaineer  who  is  not  a  sports- 
man, scenery  of  this  kind  is  void  of  interest.  Far  different 
emotions  do  the  ashy  cliff,  the  slip  of  blue  sky  overhead, 
and  the  utter  silence,  call  forth  in  the  hunter's  mind. 

Approachable  only  from  one  side,  the  Vomperloch  can 
be  entered  by  but  one  little  path,  where  the  pellucid 
stream  deriving  its  name  from  the  gorge,  after  a  pro- 
longed journey  through  countless  terrific  gorges,  somber 
and  icy  cool  even  when  the  sun  stands  at  his  highest, 
leaves  its  home  to  join  the  swift  Inn.  The  path  worn  by 
the  feet  of  the  keepers  who  have  to  guard  the  vast  do- 
main brings  one,  in  two  or  three  hours,  to  where  the  first 
side  glen  branches  off.  Here  it  stops,  and  from  thence 
the  whole  vast  range  of  mountain  is  one  grand  pathless 
wilderness  of  craggy  peaks. 

Very  lovely  has  always  seemed  to  me  this  primitive 
little  track,  winding  along  through  varied  scenery,  now 
passing  dense  forests,  or  traversing  the  gently-sloping 
verdant  meads  that,  ere  the  locality  became  sacred  to 
game,  appertained  to  a  r^mall  "  Alp  "  which  was  allowed 
to  conceal  itself  in  this  desolate  district.  Then  it  again 
disappears  from  view  as  we  proceed  to  ford  a  limpid, 
insignificant  little  brook,  that  finally  finds  its  way  to  the 
stream  at  the  bottom  of  the  gorge.  It  is  walled  in  by 
huge  masses  of  rock,  and  so  shallow  as  hardly  to  float  a 
quarter-of-a-pound  trout. 

But  what  agency  brought  hither  those  huge  blocks  of 
stone,  each  bigger  than  a  cottage,  or  tliose  water-worn 
skeletons  of  giant  trees  lying  scattered  about  on  the 
banks?  Surely  not  the  tiny  brook,  so  sleepily  meander- 
ing down  the  rocks.  And  yet  it  was  the  very  same 
streamlet  that  wrenched  the  boulder  from  the  mother 
rock,  and  uprooted  the  trees  of  centuries'  growth  from 
the  soil  where,  from  time  out  of  memcr\',  they  had  defied 
the  elements. 


336     GADDIA'GS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

The  ghostly  grandeur  of  a  raging  torrent  in  the  high 
Alps,  when  swollen  by  one  of  those  terrific  thunderstorms, 
was  once  demonstrated  to  me  in  a  marked  manner,  at 
precisely  this  spot.  I  happened  to  reach  it  when  the 
storm  vras  at  its  height,  scarce  ten  minutes  after  the  first 
drop  had  wet  my  hands.  The  foaming  waters  were  roar- 
ing down  the  deep  gully  with  amazing  force,  and  had 
attained  a  depth  of  three  or  four  feet,  rendering  it  utterly 
impossible  to  ford  its  angry  masses. 

A  bold  buttress  of  rock  projecting  far  into  the  surging 
waves  offered  a  safe  resting-place  from  whence  I  could 
watch  the  turmoil  around.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  later, 
while  the  rain  still  continued  to  pour  down  in  quantities 
unsurpassed,  my  point  of  observation  was  cut  off  from 
the  bank,  and  I  was  standing  right  in  the  center  of  the 
raging  torrent. 

Though  I  knew  I  was  perfectly  safe,  as  neither  the 
water  nor  the  trees,  which  now  were  commencing  to 
come  down  in  mad  flight,  could  ever  reach  my  post,  ele- 
vated some  thirty  feet  over  the  angry  element,  yet  it  was 
with  a  peculiar  feeling  that  I  surveyed  the  surroundings, 
and  became  convinced  that  I  was  completely  cut  off  from 
the  world. 

An  unspeakably  grand  scene  it  was,  and  one  well 
adapted  to  strike  awe  into  the  stanchest  heart.  The 
mighty  thunder-claps,  whose  echoes  were  thrown  from 
side  to  side  of  the  narrow,  rock- bound  cleft,  followed  so 
closely  upon  each  other  that  they  were  blended  into  one 
continuous  roar. 

The  darkness  which  had  so  suddenly  set  in  was  lighted 
up  by  flashes  of  lightning,  whose  intensity  I  have  never 
seen  equalled  ;  the  roar  of  rushing  water  was  no  longer 
distinct,  for  mixed  up  with  it  was  the  rumbling  of  huge 
boulders  careering  down  the  bed  of  the  torrent,  or  the 
crashing  sound  of  splintered  wood.  It  was  a  scene  giv- 
ing one  a  true  sense  of  human  frailty  in  comparison  with 
Nature's  anger. 

Had  a  kingdom  awaited  me  on  the  other  side  of  the 
waters,  I  could  not  have  passed  them  to  grasp  it. 


AjV  alpine  walk.  337 

Thougli  wet  to  the  skin,  of  course,  and  shivering  with 
cold,  I  enjoyed  amazingly  the  four  or  fu'e  hours  on  that 
crag. 

Very  different  is  it  as  we  now  r.tep  across  the  limpid 
brook,  on  our  way  to  the  recesses  of  the  Vomperloch. 

We  are  not  pressed  for  time,  so  v.-e  saunter  along,  now , 
peeping  down  the  precipitous  slopes  of  the  mountain- 
side, to  discover  if  possible  a  wary  chamois  out  on  his 
evening  graze  on  the  cliffs  forming  the  opposite  side  of 
the  deep  ra\-ine,  then  again  sitting  down  on  a  log  or  a 
stone  to  scan  with  our  telescopes  the  bluffs  and  hu2[e  cra^s 
overhead. 

How  charming  the  walk  seems  !  how  delightful  it  is  to 
be  back  again  in  free  Nature,  rid  of  Vt^orldly  care,  of  the 
dust,  din,  and  roar  of  town-life  ! 

Our  eyes  feast  on  the  gaunt  forms  of  the  bold  peaks, 
on  the  deep  green  of  the  silent,  somber  pine-forests,  and 
by  the  aid  of  the  telescope  we  bring  close  to  viev/  the 
lonely  little  Alp  chalet,  standing  in  the  center  of  an 
emerald  isle  of  verdure  on  the  opposite  range  of  moun- 
tains. We  watch  the  speckled  cattle  roaming  about,  and 
the  white-aproned,  burly  young  Alp-girl  moving  from 
bea^t  to  beast  as  she  milks  them  on  the  open  green. 

We  fancy  we  can  hear  the  tinkling  of  bells  and  the 
mooing  of  the  kine.  But  how  could  we?  More  than 
ten  miles  inter^-ene  between  the  lonely  watcher  and  the 
no  less  lonely  watched. 

The  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  crags  ;  the  delicate 
purple  tint  which  filled  the  ra\ine  at  our  feet  and  which 
had  been  diffused  over  the  giant  peaks,  coloring  forest 
and  mead,  has  given  way  to  the  dull  ashy  pallor  peculiar 
to  the  chalk  formation  after  sunset.  I'he  deep  gully,  a.t 
the  bottom  of  w^hich  a  short  half-hour  before  we  had 
watched  the  limpid,  bright,  sparkling  waters  of  the  Vom- 
perloch, is  filled  with  evening  mists,  gradually  obscuring 
the  view. 

Slowly  they  rise,  like  gho:;ts  called  up  by  the  medita- 
tions of  an  evil  mind ;  and  we  know  it  is  high  time  to 
proceed  on  our  walk,  and  get  under  shelter  for  the  night, 
for  in  half  an  hour  darkness  will  overshadow  all. 


33^    CADDINGS    WITH  A   PRhMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

We  have  not  far  to  walk,  for  our  goal,  the  Zwerchbach- 
hiitte,  a  primitive  log  hut  erected  for  the  benefit  of  the 
keepers  in  this  inhospitable  neighborhood,  lies  just  round 
that  corner  in  the  first  of  the  side  ravines.  We  cross  a 
couple  of  steep  "  an-etes,"  and  enter  the  tiny  copse  of 
beech-tices,  right  in  the  center  of  which,  in  a  small  clear- 
ing, lies  the  hut. 

We  are  standing  in  front  of  the  solitary  little  chalet, 
and  I  ask  myself,  as  I  invariably  do  on  reaching  this  pre- 
cise spot,  "How  often  have  you  been  here?"  It  is  a 
nook  which  exercises  a  spell  over  my  mind.  I  have 
visited  it  at  all  times  of  the  year, —  in  spring,  when  that 
copse  of  beech- trees,  transplanted  to  this  otherwise 
strangely  barren  locality,  as  if  by  some  fairy  hand,  has 
burst  out  in  fresh  gi'een  buds,  and  formed  a  lovely  con- 
trast to  the  few  giant  pine-trees  that  dot  the  steep  decliv- 
ity around  it ;  or  in  summer,  when  the  heat,  though  tem- 
pered by  elevation,  invites  delicious  repose  under  their 
shady  boughs.  Many  an  autumn  day  have  I  passed, 
basking  in  the  wami  sunlight,  or  sitting  on  a  crag,  tele- 
scope in  one  hand,  and  rifle  in  the  other,  watching  for 
hours  some  wary  old  buck  as  he  treads  his  favorite  paths 
on  the  face  of  a  sheer  precipice,  or  again,  acrobat-like, 
posing  for  half  the  day  at  a  time  on  some  needle-shaped 
prominence.  And  winter  —  why,  even  winter  has  seen 
me  here,  though  the  treat  of  viewing  Nature  in  her  dense 
white  robe  had  to  be  purchased  by  hours  of  wading  in 
deep  snov/  and  other  exposures  no  less  severe,  not  to 
speak  of  the  risk  the  invader  has  to  run  of  being  snowed 
in,  with  escape  hopeless. 

I  once  passed  Christmas  Eve  and  Christmas  Day,  like 
a  mole,  in  this  very  log  hut,  burrowed  under  five  feet  of 
snow.  And  though  the  fare  was  of  the  very  simplest, 
and  the  solitary  toasts  had  to  be  drank  in  "  schnapps,"  I 
look  back  on  those  two  days  with  pleasure. 

But  the  reader  will  exclaim,  "  What  is  it  that  lends  this 
spot  such  surpassing  charms?  Is  it  the  grand  landscape? 
Is  it  the  utter  silence,  the  strange  ;;olitude  that  reigns 
around  ?     Or  is  it  the  awe-inspiring  height  of  the  rocky 


AX  ALPIXE    WALK.  339 

walls  that  rise  in  steep  precipices  thousands  of  feet  on 
every  side?  Oris  it  the  fantastic  shapes  and  the  weird 
forms  of  the  crags  overhead?  Or,  again,  is  it  the  con- 
sciousness that  we  are  invading  one  of  the  very  most 
lonely  territories  in  the  whole  stretch  of  the  Alps,  and 
that  solitude,  such  as  can  be  found  in  few  spots  in  Europe, 
if  in  any,  surrounds  us?"  No  paths,  no  track,  cross  the 
peaks  before  us.  The  very  native,  be  he  never  so  bold  a 
climber,  shuns  to  enter  the  trackless  wilderness. 

The  last  chalet  is  far  behind  us  :  there  is  not  a  single 
human  habitation  in  the  vast  mass  of  mountains  that  faces 
us.  No  forest  nor  scanty  growth  of  Alpine  hay  tempts 
the  all-invading  woodcutter  and  daring  "  AVildheuer  "  to 
turn  his  steps  hither.  The  very  poacher,  not  easily 
daunted  we  are  assured,  turns  back  before  the  difficulties 
of  access,  the  entire  absence  of  chalets  or  sheltering  huts 
wherein  he  could  pass  his  lonely  nights,  and  the  great 
danger  to  him  from  the  facility  for  the  keepers  overlook- 
ing very  large  tracts  from  prominent  eminences. 

Nature  and  man  have  combined  to  make  this  district 
as  solitary  a  spot  as  well  can  be. 

Let  us  enter  the  liut  after  a  long  absence  of  nearly  a 
year,  and  cast  a  glance  at  its  primitive  interior,  —  at  the 
deal  table,  fastened  by  a  hinge  to  the  wall ;  the  two  cots 
filled  with  hay ;  the  pewter  spoon,  knife,  and  fork,  stuck 
in  the  crevice,  and  the  glittering  ax  for  chopping  wood 
beside  them. 

\\'e  prepare  our  simple  meal  on  the  open  fireplace 
outside,  protected  from  rain  by  the  overhanging  roof 
The  dish  of  somewhat  greasy  "  Schmarn "  is  washed 
down  by  a  large  jorum  bf  strong  tea,  boiled,  it  must  be 
confessed,  in  the  very  same  pan  (the  only  one  the  hut 
contains)  in  which  our  more  solid  dish  was  cooked. 

Our  pipes  lit,  and  fresh  fuel  thrown  on  the  fire,  we 
settle  down  to  a  revery.  We  are  recalled  to  our  senses 
by  the  chill  night  wind  coming  straight  down  from  the 
neighboring  glaciers.  The  full  disc  of  the  moon  has 
risen  over  the  walls  of  our  prison,  and  her  mellow  light 
adds  a  new  charm  to  its  picturesqueness. 


340    GADDnVCS    WITH  A    PRIMTTIVE  PEOPLE. 

Some  of  the  snowfields,  worn  to  a  high  pohsh  by  a 
hot  August  sun,  reflect  the  Hght  with  mysterious  brilliancy, 
while  others  left  in  the  shade  assume  ghoul-like  forms, 
and  seem  to  stand  out  from  the  dark  background  hke 
gigantic  hobgoblins. 

Break  of  day  has  to  see  us  up  :  so,  rather  than  dally 
any  longer,  we  retire  to  our  cots,  and,  after  throwing  aside 
coat  and  shoes,  stretch  ourselves  comfortably  on  the 
fragrant  bed,  which,  after  a  nine-months'  experience  of 
more  luxurious  couches,  seems,  for  the  first  moments, 
somewhat  strange. 

The  bright  moonbeams  stealing  sideways  through  the 
window,  the  dead  silence  withal  (for  the  ear  has  long 
become  accustomed  to  the  monotonous,  low  rumbling  of 
the  seething  Zwerchbach),  lull  eyes  and  ears,  a  haze 
steals  over  the  senses,  and  in  the  next  five  minutes  sleep 
has  conquered. 

Some  seven  or  eight  hours  before  the  conventional 
time  for  rising  in  town,  we  leave  our  couches,  and  com- 
plete our  toilets,  which,  however,  does  not  take  us  very 
much  longer  than  it  does  a  Central  African  ;  the  lacing  of 
our  boots,  perhaps,  giving  a  black  competitor  the  only 
chance  to  win  a  dressing  race. 

But  what  on  earth  have  we  to  do,  you  ask,  at  this 
unseasonable  hour?  for  it  is  only  three  o'clock,  and  as  yet 
no  faint  tint  of  light  on  the  sky  betra)'s  coming  day. 

I  propose  to  visit  a  saltlick  for  chamois,  and  for  this 
purpose  have  to  be  up  betimes.  Everybody  knows  how 
fond  sheep  and  goats  are  of  salt :  less  known  is  the  cir- 
cumstance that  chamois  often  betray,  at  certain  seasons, 
a  great  partiality  for  it. 

Most  of  the  large  preserves  in  Styria  and  Tyrol  have 
regular  "  Sulzen,"  or  saltlicks,  constantly  provided  with 
that  attraction.  The  cavity  in  the  rock,  into  which  the 
blocks  are  fastened  by  iron  stays,  is  worn  and  polished  by 
countless  hoofs ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  fascinating 
sights  to  watch,  from  some  favorable  ambush  close  at 
hand,  the  playful  gambols,  the  amazing  jumps,  the  end- 
less gymnastic  feats  and  tricks,  of  a  whole  herd  at  one  of 
these  places. 


A.V  ALPIXE    WALK.  341 

The  one  I  am  about  to  visit  is  not  far  from  the  hut,  in 
one  of  those  stupendous  cross-ravines  which  I  endeav- 
ored to  describe  in  the  commencement  of  the  chapter. 

Some  distance  from  it,  I  have  to  divest  myself  of  shoes 
and  stockings,  in  order  to  pick  my  steps  noiselessly  along 
a  narrow  ledge  running  at  some  height  over  the  gorge. 
I  have  not  more  than  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  to  go, 
yet  it  takes  upwards  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Now 
creeping  along  on  all-fours,  now  rising  cautiously  in  order 
to  leap  the  gap  where  the  ledge  has  been  worn  away  by 
a  watercourse,  then  again  lying  still,  hardly  daring  to 
raise  the  eyes,  or  now  bending  over  the  edge  as  far  as  I 
dare  to  assure  myself  that  no  chamois  are  in  the  ravine 
below,  I  finally  reach  the  miniature  platform  which  is  the 
point  of  view.  A  few  stones  are  piled  up,  and  through 
the  chinks  the  watcher  can  look  down  at  the  saltlick, 
some  thirty  yards  below,  without  being  seen  by  the  cha- 
mois. 

Ventre  a  terre,  after  throwing  aside  my  hat,  lest  the 
blackcock  feather  on  it  might  protrude  over  the  stones 
and  thus  betray  me,  I  approach  the  pile.  The  first 
glance  through  a  chink  shows  the  whole  slope  beneath 
peopled  with  chamois  !  The  eyes  feast  upon  the  scene  ; 
chamois  of  every  age  and  size,  from  the  giddy  little  kid 
up  to  the  sedate  and  wary  old  buck,  who  raises  his  head 
from  minute  to  minute  to  scent.  But  the  wind  is  dead 
against  him,  so  he  lowers  it  again,  wholly  unsuspicious  of 
my  close  proximity. 

Generally  speaking,  the  sportsman  abstains,  from  shoot- 
ing or  disturbing  the  game  at  saltlicks  ;  for  if  he  does  so 
repeatedly  the  animals  are  loth  to  return  to  it,  and  thus 
they  are  deprived  of  the  luxury  conducive  to  vigorous 
health. 

Exceptions  to  this  rule  are,  however,  now  and  again 
made  ;  as,  for  instance,  in  the  case  of  well-known  old 
bucks,  who  have  managed,  by  dint  of  their  marvelously 
keen  scent  and  watchfulness,  to  elude  the  fell  bullet  for 
years  upon  years. 

Every    preserve    contains    some  of    these    patriarchs 


342     GADDINGS    WITH  A    PRIMlTn'E   PEOPLE. 

among  chamois,  the  object  of  countless  plots  and  tricks 
on  the  parts  of  the  sager  stalker,  all  of  which  have  failed ; 
the  buck  has  escaped  from  combats  out  of  number  un- 
scathed, or,  at  the  very  most,  but  slightly  wounded.  He 
has  become  notorious  by  his  marvelous  good  fortune. 
He  instinctively  seeks  the  most  secluded  spots,  and 
selects  the  most  impassable  clilTs  for  his  hiding-places. 
What  Nature  has  left  undone  for  his  protection,  he  sup- 
plements by  his  wary  caution.  There  are,  however,  sea- 
sons of  the  year  when  even  these  grandfathers  of  their 
tribes  have  perforce  to  leave  their  seclusion  to  mingle 
with  the  gay  young  herd  whose  giddy  company  they  care- 
fully eschew  the  rest  of  the  year. 

In  July  and  August,  when  the  days  are  the  hottest,  and 
the  poor  animals  know  not  whither  to  turn  for  shade,  the 
saltlick,  whose  luxuries  are  enjoyed  long  before  the  sun 
has  breasted  the  cliffs  overhead,  offers  a  temptation  none 
can  withstand.  While  watching  the  fascinating  sight,  all 
of  a  sudden  the  heart  stops  beating,  and  the  whole  body 
grows  rigid,  for  with  a  couple  of  strides  an  old  foe  —  a 
very  notorious  buck  whose  tracks  I  have  unsuccessfully 
followed  times  out  of  number,  —  steps  into  sight. 

It  is  a  moment  of  supreme  excitement ;  my  hands 
tremble  as  I  grope  for  the  rifle.  Could  I  be  mistaken? 
No  !  for  there,  his  head  thrown  well  back  sniffing  the  air, 
I  can  plainly  see  the  stump  of  his  right  horn  which  one 
of  the  keepers  shot  off  more  than  ten  years  ago.  I  cau- 
tiously draw  back  from  the  wall,  cock  the  rifle,  stick  the 
barrel  through  a  chink,  and  proceed  to  take  steady  aim. 
The  slight  click  of  the  "hair-trigger,  as  I  set  it,  and  the 
next  moment  is  to  be  the  last  of  the  longed-for  prize. 
But  no,  it  was  not  to  be,  for  the  hammer  strikes  the  nip- 
ple without  exploding  the  cap.  \Vhat  a  scene  of  confu- 
sion that  slight  noise  produces  !  with  a  loud  whistle  of 
alarm,  the  whole  company  disperse  in  all  directions,  as 
if  they  were  chaff  chased  by  a  strong  wind.  Of  the  fifty 
or  sixty  chamois  assembled  at  the  saltlick,  the  greater 
part  pass  just  underneath  the  place  of  ambush,  while  two 
or  three,  not  knowing  at  first  whence  the  danger  threat- 


A.V  ALFI-XE    WALK.  343 

ened,  actually  make  for  my  platform,  and  approach  with- 
in three  paces  before  they  perceive  my  prostrate  form, 
and  with  a  shrill  "  whew  "  are  down  the  precipice  to  seek 
safety  elsewhere. 

Again  that  old  buck  had  escaped  his  doom,  for  by  the 
time  I  had  placed  a  fresh  cap  on  the  nipple  he  was  out 
of  sight.  For  the  next  two  years  he  disappeared  entirely ; 
none  of  the  keepers  set  eyes  upon  him,  until  finally  one 
fine  day,  at  a  large  drive  for  chamois  in  this  district,  we 
discovered  him  through  the  telescope,  standing  as  if  hewn 
in  stone  on  the  knife-edge  of  a  pinnacle  some  thousand 
feet  over  our  heads,  and  watching  the  goings-on  of  the 
sportsmen  and  beaters  below  him.  His  size  and  crippled 
horn  removed  all  doubt  respecting  his  identity.  The 
rolling  echo  of  the  shot,  announcing  the  commencement 
of  the  drive,  roused  him  at  last,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he 
was  lost  to  our  eyes  in  the  maze  of  crags ;  and  there, 
secure  from  even  the  very  boldest  pursuers,  he  may  be 
roaming  at  the  present  moment. 

A  bunch  of  his  long  hair  in  one's  hat,  and  his  fine 
though  crippled  "head"  in  one's  hall,  would  be  the 
proudest  trophies  one  can  fancy. 

I  return  to  my  hut,  naturally  not  in  the  best  of  humors 
with  m)-self;  but  a  plunge  into  the  icy  waters  of  the  adja- 
cent torrent,  which  at  my  usual  bathing-place  forms  a 
caldron  of  some  depth,  does  much  to  console  me  for  the 
failure.  One  who  has  never  enjo}-ed  a  dip  in  a  moun- 
tain-stream early  in  the  day  can  little  fancy  its  delights, 
ending  as  they  do  with  a  sharp  run  back,  that  reminds  us 
in  its  speed  of  the  last  exciting  home-spurt  of  that  healthy 
exercise  for  boyish  lungs,  —  a  well  kept-up  paper-chase. 
A  large  dish  of  "  Schmarn,"  of  one's  own  cooking,  lays  a 
capital  bottom  for  a  hard  day's  work,  particularly  if  you 
eat  it  with  appetite  sharpened  by  a  previous  cold  tub. 

What  is  it,  I  often  ask  myself,  that  steals  over  you, 
when,  after  establishing  a  substantial  "  fonde,"  you  sling 
the  trusty  rifle  o\'er  your  shoulder,  light  your  pipe,  and 
start  off  for  a  long  stalk?  Does  the  native,  I  wonder, 
enjoy  that  delicious  feeling  of  mental  ease,   that  con- 


344    GADDINGS    WITH  A  -PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

sciousness  of  active  power,  shrinking  from  no  obstacle? 
Does  he  too  feel  that  exuberant  wish  to  "  do  "  some- 
tliing  whicli  nobody  else  can  do,  —  "to  outshine"  his 
companion,  be  he  even  his  best  friend?  Is  it  the  result 
of  youth  coupled  with  sound  bodily  health  ?  or  is  it  per- 
haps the  product  of  the  sublime  scenery  surrounding  us  ? 
or  again  is  it  the  vista  of  good  sport  ?  or  possibly  could 
these  joyous  spirits  be  born  and  reared  in  that  greasy  pan 
in  which  we  cooked  our  substantial  breakfast?  No  :  an 
instinct  tells  us  that  they  are  inborn,  that  they  are  the 
happy  prerogative  of  "  meat,  ma'am,  meat,"  as  Mr.  Bum- 
ble would  describe  that  "  something"  which  distinguishes 
the  buffed  Britisher  from  all  other  nationalities,  and,  fairy- 
like, endows  him  with  the  gift  to  enjoy  intensely  a  pleasure 
which  to  the  rest  of  mankind  —  to  the  slothful  Russian, 
the  brain-fed  German,  the  Frenchman  of  impaired  vitality, 
or  the  enervated  Italian  —  is  usually  a  source  of  displeas- 
ure ;  namely,  healthful  exercise. 

But  I  am  interrupting  my  walk  by  idle  speculations,  in- 
stead of  doing  justice,  as  I  now  propose  to  do,  to  two 
trusted  companions  —  human  features  of  the  Vomperloch, 
I  might  term  them  —  at  vv'hose  sides  I  have  often  scaled 
the  fastnesses  of  this  wild  region,  and  in  whose  company 
I  have  trodden  the  most  dangerous  paths.  They  are  the 
"Jagers,"  who  though  at  the  tim.e  I  am  speaking  of,  sim- 
ple keepers  to  tlie  outer  world,  were  the  kings  and  rulers 
of  this  vast  hunting-ground. 

Tonerl,  the  elder  of  the  two,  has  a  cottage  of  his  own 
in  the  secluded  little  hamlet  of  some  half  a  dozen  houses, 
nestling  on  the  high  plateau  at  the  very  entrance  of  the 
Vomperloch.  Our  visit  being  unexpected,  v/e  find  Tonerl 
from  home,  and  his  sturdy  wife  Theresa  tells  us  that  he 
is  collecting  brushwood  on  yonder  precipitous  slopes. 

Let  us,  seated  on  the  rustic  bench  placed  under  a 
couple  of  gnarled  fruitless  apple-trees  in  front  of  the  lowly 
little  cottage,  await  his  return.  Glancing  up  from  the 
huge  dish  of  delicious  milk,  which  has  received  our  par- 
ticular attention,  we  scan  the  steep  declivity  down  which 
Tonerl  has  to  come.     Presently  we  detect, 'high  up  on  a 


AA'  ALPINE    IVALIC  345 

sort  of  cutting,  a  bundle  gliding  down  the  very  precipitous 
gradient  at  itghtning  speed.  13y  the  aid  of  the  pocket- 
telescope,  we  discover  tliat  this  bundle  is  nothing  less  than 
Tonerl  in  front  of  a  sledge,  upon  which  are  stacked  and 
bound  dov/n  two  huge  bundles  of  lirushwood.  Leaning 
back  upon  his  cargo,  his  feet  well  forward  and  armed  with 
crampons,  he  holds  on  to  the  two  "horns"  of  the  sledge. 
To  one  who  has  never  watched  a  descent  of  this  kind,  it 
seems  utterly  impossible  for  a  human  being  to  slide  down 
a  narrow  cutting  at  a  gradient  of  fifty  or  sixty  degrees, 
with  a  huge  load  of  wood  behind  him,  and  not  be  dashed 
to  pieces  long  before  he  reaches  the  bottom.  Small  pre- 
cipices of  six  to  seven  feet  in  depth  are  passed  in  one 
bound ;  stones  of  great  size,  embedded  in  the  course,  are 
likewise  no  obstacle  to  speak  of.  It  requires  strong  nerves, 
a  steady  eye,  and  cool  courage,  to  guide  one  of  these 
summer  sleighs  on  a  steep  slope.  Your  breath  is  taken, 
your  eyes  blink,  now  you  imagine  nothing  can  save  )0u 
from  dashing  with  fearful  violence  into  a  boulder  the  size 
of  a  moderate  house,  while  a  slight  touch  of  your  cram- 
pon-arracd  foot  will  guide  the  sleigh  to  the  left,  and  you 
pass  it  at  a  close  shave  ;  then  again  you  believe  your  very 
bones  m.ust  be  shaken  to  pieces,  as  with  a  gay  jodler  the 
guiding  steersman  clears  a  small  precipice,  when  you  have 
to  cling  as  for  your  life  to  the  ropes  wherewith  the  bundles 
upon  which  you  sit  are  tied  down.  "  Hold  hard  !  "  you 
cry,  as  with  dismay  you  see  a  couple  of  huge  trunks  of 
trees  lying  athwart  your  course ;  but  it  is  too  late,  the 
steersman,  when  as  if  about  to  crash  against  the  huge 
beams,  lifts  the  front  of  the  sledge,  and  you  and  the  bun- 
dles pass  over  them  in  safety.  Nothing  can  be  more  ex- 
citing than  one  of  these  summer  sleighing  parties  ;  and 
though  severe  accidents  do  sometimes  occur,  the  prime 
fun  of  the  expedition  will  outweigh  your  fears,  and  you 
take  your  seat  behind  the  steersman,  or,  as  is  frequently 
the  case  in  remote  valleys,  behind  the  betrousered  steers- 
woman,  with  quickened  pulse.  In  late  autumn  and  early 
spring,  one  of  the  cliief  amusements  that  varies  the  mo- 
notonous life  of  the  peasantry  is  to  bring  down  the  hay 


34^     GADDIXGS    WITH  A    PRIMJTIVE   PEOPLE. 

from  the  small  log-built  hay-huts  that  dot  the  highest  pas- 
turages, in  which  it  was  stored  when  fresh  cut.  Snow,  of 
not  too  great  a  depth,  covers  the  steep  slopes,  rendering 
the  descent  a  swift  and  delightful  sleigh. 

Very  often  the  duty  of  bringing  down  the  hay,  being  a 
lighter  kind  of  work,  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  girls,  probably 
the  daughters  of  the  owner.  With  trousers  of  stout  can- 
vas in  lieu  of  the  usual  female  dress,  and  sharp  crampons 
on  their  feet,  two  or  three  of  these  buxom  lasses  will  set 
out.  Hours  of  hard  toil  will  finally  bring  them  and  their 
sleighs  to  their  goal.  The  hay,  packed  in  nets  of  strong 
cord,  is  tied  down  on  the  sledge ;  and  then  lighting  their 
pipes,  and  making  the  valley  at  their  feet  ring  with  their 
merry  jodlers,  each  girl  placing  herself  in  front  of  the 
sleigh,  on  which,  towering  far  over  her  head,  the  huge 
bundles  of  fragrant  Alpine  grass  are  lying,  sets  out  on  her 
dangerous  descent.  Away  they  speed  like  lightning,  a 
few  yards  intervening  between  them.  Now  they  have 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  meadow  :  next  comes  a  dense 
wood,  rendering  further  progress  seemingly  impossible, 
and  yet,  with  a  loud  whoop,  they  enter  the  narrow  cutting 
which  has  been  made  through  the  wood,  and  like  a  flash 
of  lightning  they  pass  through  the  gloomy  forest.  In 
this  way  these  dauntless  lasses  cover,  in  two  or  three  min- 
utes, ground  which  it  took  them  as  many  hours  to  ascend. 

Words  fail  me  to  describe  the  gay  scene,  and  the  feel- 
ing of  joyous  lightness  which  takes  possession  of  one. 
Every  thing  combines  to  make  it  one  of  the  pleasantest 
scenes  of  Alpine  life,  —  the  valley  far  down  at  your  feet, 
the  grand  peaks  rising  from  a  l)elt  of  dark-green  pine-for- 
ests, the  crisp  air,  and  the  lightning  speed  at  which  you 
travel,  comfortably  seated  on  the  top  of  the  bundles,  with 
your  legs  hanging  down  one  at  each  side  of  your  fair 
guide's  head. 

At  one  of  these  sleighings,  at  which  I  happened  to 
participate,  the  fun  was  greatly  enhanced  by  a  ludicrous 
incident.  We  had  been  traveling  for  several  seconds,  as 
usual  at  a  tremendous  pace,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  no- 
ticed that  the  hay  bundle  on  which  I  sat  was  smok/ng.     I 


AjV  ALP/.VE    IVALA'.  347 

cried  to  the  lass  who  guided  the  sleigh  ;  and  on  turning 
she  saw  that  the  hay  had  been  set  alight  by  a  spark  of 
her  pipe.  Had  we  gone  on  for  a  minute,  the  whole  cargo 
would  have  been  ablaze,  and  my  position  rendered  very 
dangerous.  She  knew  she  could  not  stop  the  sleigh,  as 
we  were  just  at  the  very  steepest  part  of  the  descent ;  so, 
(juick  as  lightning,  she  made  the  sleigh  swerve  to  the  left, 
right  into  a  deep  bank  of  snow.  The  sudden  stoppage 
sent  me  flying  over  my  companion's  head  into  the  snow. 
To  see  me  dig  myself  out,  must  have  been  a  highly  ludi- 
crous sight ;  but  for  all  that  the  fire  was  stifled,  and  no- 
body was  hurt. 

But  we  have  been  sadly  led  away.  Old  Tonerl,  we 
have  seen,  was  coming  down  in  the  way  described ;  and 
a  few  minutes  later  the  weatherbeaten  old  fellow  was 
standing  in  front  of  us,  stretching  out  his  brawny  right 
hand,  while  with  his  left  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
his  forehead. 

"  That's  right ;  you've  come  at  last.  I  thought  j^ou 
had  quite  forgotten  the  old  place.  But  you  look  pale ; 
I'm  sure  you've  been  tumbling  about  dusty  cities,  instead 
of  visiting  your  old  haunts." 

Old  Tonerl,  a  man  of  fifty-five  or  fifty-six,  whose 
strongly-knit  figure  and  powerful  limbs  would  hardly 
betray  his  age,  has,  for  a  mountain-born  Tyrolese,  seen  a 
deal  of  the  world.  In  his  younger  days  he  had  been  a 
soldier,  —  one  of  that  renowned  corps,  "  The  Kaiser  Ja- 
ger,"  the  Emperor's  chasseurs,  who  executed  such  deeds 
of  bravery  under  their  beloved  veteran  leader,  Marshal 
Radetzky,  in  the  Italian  campaigns  of  1848.  He  had 
fought,  as  he  will  tell  you  with  sparkling  eyes,  the  first  ten 
minutes  of  your  acquaintance  with  him,  in  seven  battles, 
and  more  than  a  dozen  engagements. 

"  Ah,  those  infernal  '  AVelsche  '  (the  name  by  which 
the  Italian-speaking  people  of  South  Tyrol  and  of  Italy 
itself  are  known),  didn't  we  just  lick  them  !  With  our 
rifles  stocked,  we  stormed  their  barricades,  and  clubbed 
them  down  like  so  many  curs." 

The  man's  eyes  light  up  when  he  reverts  to  his  soldier 
days ;  and  you  see  he  loved  fighting  for  fighting's  sake. 


34S     GADDINGS  WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

Tonerl  will  close  a  long  rigmarole  about  the  country 
in  which  he  spent  so  many  years  of  his  life  (he  had  been 
in  Italy  eleven  years),  by  telling  you  that  there's  only 
one  good  thing  about  it,  —  otherwise  a  rotten  country, 
inhabited  by  a  set  of  treacherous  rascals,  —  and  that  is 
its  cheap  wines.  "Why,"  he  would  continue,  "you  could 
get  a  '  mass  '  of  capital  wine  for  two  kreutzers  of  the  old 
currency.  Ah,  those  were  times  !  and  schnapps,"  he 
would  add,  "  schnapps  as  much  as  you  could  get  down 
your  throat  for  a  '  groschen.'  " 

Once,  on  returning  from  a  few  months'  stay  in  Italy, 
I  revisited  my  old  friend ;  and  the  very  first  question  he 
asked,  on  hearing  that  we  had  been  in  Italy,  was,  "  How 
dear  is  the  wine  there  now?"  When  I  told  him  that  I 
had  paid  but  little  attention  to  that  topic,  he  looked  quite 
aghast ;  and  some  time  later  I  overheard  him  telling  his 
wife  that  I  had  been  in  Italy  for  several  months,  and  ac- 
tually did  not  know  what  the  wine  cost. 

I  felt  that  I  had  fallen  very  considerably  in  Tonerl's 
opinion,  and  naught  could  restore  me  to  the  elevated 
position  I  had  formerly  occupied.  His  suspicions  must 
have  been  aroused  by  this  instance  of  gross  ignorance  on 
my  part ;  for  presently  he  subjected  me  to  a  severe  cross- 
examination,  which,  following  closely  on  my  first  discom- 
fiture, did  for  me  entirely. 

In  the  eleven  years  he  had  soldiered  about  Italy,  he 
had  got  to  know  many  of  the  fortified  towns,  such  as 
Mantua,  Milan,  Verona,  Padua,  &c.,  and  had  stood  on 
guard  hundreds  of  times  at  their  numberless  gates. 

His  questions  were  in  accordance  with  these  experi- 
ences ;  for,  on  my  displaying  ignorance  of  the  number 
and  names  of  the  gates  that  Verona  or  Mantua  has,  he 
gave  me  up  as  a  sad  story-teller,  and  hinted  as  much  as 
that  my  Italian  travels  were  myths. 

With  the  exception  of  the  two  phrases,  "  Give  me  some 
wine,"  and  "What's  the  price  of  this  wine?"  he  had  for- 
gotten every  word  of  the  Italian  tongue ;  and  even  these 
two  phrases  time  had  metamorphosed  into  oaths,  and  his 
"  Quantocostavins  "  rolled  out  in  right  awe-inspiring  style. 


AX  ALFIXE    WALK.  349 

According  to  old  Tonerl,  fair  Italy  was  metamorphosed 
into  a  country  the  like  of  which,  for  bad  qualities,  it  would 
be  impossible  to  find.  And,  indeed,  if  you  listened  to 
his  tale  of  woe,  —  how  the  malignant  fevers  had  decimated 
the  ranks  of  his  regiment  far  more  severely  than  their 
enemies'  ba}  onets  \  what  fearful  sufferings  they  had  to 
undergo  in  the  suffocating  heat  of  the  summer ;  how 
treacherously  the  Italians  behaved ;  that  the  assassin's 
dagger  or  poison,  handled  by  patriotic  but  misguided 
women,  was  for  ever  at  work,  —  one  could  well  fancy  that 
the  open  character  of  these  mountain-born  troops  grew 
hardened  and  vindictive,  and  that  treacherous  cruelty  was 
met  by  rough-and-ready  \iolcncc. 

Looking  at  Tonerl  novv-,  one  could  hardly  fancy  in  him 
a  veteran  soldier ;  nothing  whatever  indicates  his  former 
vocation.  He  represents  as  true  a  type  of  a  chamois- 
hunter,  born  and  bred  in  his  native  valley,  as  one  could 
fancy. 

His  powerful  though  under-sized  frame  has  about  it  that 
look  of  well-knit  bones  and  joints  vv'hich  characterizes  the 
peasantry ;  his  figure  has  the  stoop  so  peculiar  to  the 
liunter,  his  very  gait,  the  long  swing  and  heavy  tread  of 
the  mountaineer.  These  trivial  details  are  an  instance  of 
Nature's  power  over  man. 

Fourteen  years  of  soldiering  meant,  at  the  period  I  am 
speaking  of,  serving  that  number  of  }-ears,  in  the  prime  of 
hfe,  under  an  iron  rule  of  pig-tailed  pipe-clay,  which  re- 
duced the  free  man  into  a  machine  far  more  complicated 
and  nicely  adjusted  than  the  most  intricate  machinery  of 
a  chronometer.  His  very  thoughts,  words,  and  actions 
were  regulated  strictly  according  to  the  word  of  command. 

In  a  character  less  imbued  with  the  idiosyncrasy  of 
his  people,  an  indelible  effect  would  have  been  produced, 
an  effect  no  number  of  years  or  change  of  vocation  could 
efface.  How  easy  it  generally  is  to  recognize  the  soldier, 
be  it  even  under  puzzling  disguise  ! 

But  with  the  mountain-born  Tyrolese  the  case  is  differ- 
ent. When  he  is  once  back  among  his  Alps,  Nature 
effaces  every  trace  of   the  foreign  element.     The   man 


35 o    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

casts  off  his  soldier's  guise  as  effectually  as  his  noble  game, 
the  hart,  sheds  his  antlers.  Nothing  remains  to  tell  of 
that  long  life  of  clockwork  misery.  Grand  Nature,  that 
surrounds  him  on  all  sides,  acts  as  the  furnace  in  which 
the  sterling  metal  of  the  independent  mountaineer  frees 
itself  of  the  alloy  so  foreign  to  it. 

Leiter,  the  other  keeper,  was  a  little  wiry  man  some 
forty  years  of  age,  and  about  the  best  cragsman  I  have 
ever  met.  In  intelligence  he  was  far  above  the  common 
run  of  his  comrades,  who  usually  are  naught  but  sports- 
men, born,  reared,  and  condemned  to  diein  the  solitude 
of  their  beloved  mountains.  Many  an  agreeable  day's 
stalking  have  I  enjoyed  in  bygone  years  at  the  side  of  this 
man  ;  and  when  late  in  the  e\-enings,  after  a  two  or  three 
days'  stalk,  we  would  return  to  his  humble  cottage,  a 
steaming  supper,  a  bright  cleanly-kept  room,  and  the 
smiling  face  of  his  pretty  young  wife,  would  await  us. 

Poor  fellow  !  Little  did  we  think  that  his  days  were 
numbered,  when,  on  a  raw  November  day  some  years  ago, 
we  returned  from  our  last  expedition  into  the  Vomperloch 
for  that  year. 

And  yet  it  was  that  very  stalking  excursion  that  brought 
Leiter  to  grief,  and  widowed  poor  "  Nanni,"  It  was  a 
cold  autumn  day.  The  mountains  were  already  coated 
with  their  winter's  pall.  We  had  been  in  the  Vomperloch 
for  a  couple  of  days,  and  in  the  afternoon  of  the  second 
we  proposed  to  make  a  short  "  drive  "  for  chamois.  Leiter 
and  Tonerl  were  to  act  as  beaters,  while  I  was  to  station 
myself  near  the  banks  of  the  torrent,  expecting  that  the 
game  would  endeavor —  as  it  usually  does  in  winter —  to 
escape  across  the  water. 

No  chamois  came,  and  after  waiting  several  hours,  the 
beaters  at  last  returned.  It  was  getting  dark,  and  so  it 
was  proposed  that,  rather  than  scramble  up  the  impend- 
ing excessively  steep  slopes  to  reach  the  path,  we  should 
follow  the  watercourse,  which  would  save  us  at  least  a 
good  hour.  As  the  torrent  was  skirted  by  walls  of  rock  of 
considerable  height,  forming  gorges  of  great  length,  we 
had  to  wade  in  the  icy-cold  stream. 


AN  ALPIXE    WALK.  35 1 

It  varied  in  depth,  but  being  autumn  and  hence  there 
being  very  httle  water  in  comparison  to  that  of  summer, 
when  it  would  reach  a  depth  of  eighteen  or  twenty  feet, 
it  never  came  up  higher  than  our  hips.  Yet,  the  force  of 
the  stream  being  considerable,  we  had  hard  work  to  keep 
on  our  legs,  particularly  as  it  was  getting  quite  dark. 

Laughing  and  joking,  we  proceeded  on  our  wade,  the' 
stupendous  cliffs  around  us  re-echoing  every  word  with 
tenfold  force.  Cold  work  we  thought  it,  as  quarter  of  an 
hour  after  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed,  and  we  were  still 
immersed  in  the  icy  water.  Finally,  after  nearly  two 
hours  of  it,  we  reached  two  lonely  cottages,  built  at  the 
very  last  extremity  of  habitable  ground,  right  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  "Vomperloch  Glen."  One  was  Lei- 
ter's  habitation,  the  other  the  inn,  whose  owner  combined 
a  smithy  with  his  other  vocations  as  petty  farmer  and 
host  of  the  inn. 

Here  we  parted,  and  I  proceeded  to  gain  my  own 
quarters,  some  little  distance  off.  That  time  twelve  hours, 
I  was  entering  the  express,  and  just  forty  hours  later  was 
stepping  into  a  hansom  at  Victoria.  A  week  afterwards  I 
received  the  news  of  poor  Leiter's  death.  An  acute 
inflammation  carried  off  my  trusty  companion  —  nay,  I 
may  even  say  friend  —  in  less  than  three  days. 

I  have  now  sketched,  as  best  I  could,  the  characters  of 
my  two  favorite  comrades ;  but  there  5'et  remains  another 
human  feature  of  our  favorite  district,  and  one  that  will 
probably  prove  of  more  interest. 

Ferocious  Jokel  was  a  character  in  strict  harmony  with 
these  wild  regions,  which  were,  I  may  at  once  betray,  his 
favorite  hunting-ground.  He  was  a  poacher  of  the  very 
first  caliber.  How  well  I  remember  his  startling  aspert ! 
those  glittering,  restless  black  eyes  hid  beneath  his  shaggy 
brows,  his  muscular  and  gigantic  frame,  spare  and  with- 
out an  ounce  of  superfluous  flesh  on  it,  his  coffee-colored 
chest,  open  alike  in  summer  and  winter,  and  covered 
with  hair.  His  taciturn  demeanor,  his  piercing  glance 
as  with  one  look  he  had  examined  you  from  head  to  foot, 
that  air  of  tmapproachable  hauteur,  had  all  attracted  my 


352     GADDIXGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

atlention  the  very  first  minute  —  now  many  years  ago  — 
when  I  first  saw  him.  He  was  leaning  over  a  heap  of 
smoldering  embers  in  that  forlorn  shepherd's  hut,  where 
I  met  him  the  first  and  the  only  time  in  my  life.  It  was 
a  strange  meeting,  and  one  that  I  shall  remember. 

I  had  been  out  several  days  in  these  very  mountains, 
and  on  the  evening  of  the  third  day  was  returning  to 
more  habitable  quarters,  when,  overtaken  by  a  fierce  tliun- 
dcrstorm,  I  had  to  take  refuge  in  a  deserted  chalet  situ- 
ated in  the  very  wildest  and  most  secluded  nook,  many 
hours'  walk  from  the  next  inhabited  Alp  hut.  The  boards 
that  did  for  a  door  were  pushed  aside,  and  a  fire  burnt 
on  the  open  hearth.  A  loud  peal  of  thunder,  which 
shook  the  very  earth,  had  drowned  the  noise  of  my  en- 
trance, and  I  stood  in  the  hut  before  its  occupant,  who  vv^as 
staring  pensively  into  the  flames,  had  noticed  my  pres- 
ence. The  next  second  he  looked  up  :  his  eyes  seemed 
to  devour  me,  as  with  one  agile  leap  he  gained  the  bench 
upon  v\^hich  his  rifle  was  lying.  The  next  moment  it  was 
leveled  at  my  breast,  and  Jokel,  for  it  was  no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  that  noted  poacher,  though  at  the  time  I  was 
ignorant  of  his  name  and  fame,  demanded  gruffly  what  I 
wanted  of  him. 

Before  I  had  time  to  answer,  he  had  lov/ered  his  rifle, 
for  he  perceived  I  v/as  unarmed,  and  in  a  voice  scarcely 
less  grufl"  than  before,  said,  — 

"  Never  mind ;  I  thought  you  were  one  of  those 
accursed  keepers." 

I  passed  that  night  in  his  company,  slept  on  the  floor 
back  to  back  with  liim,  and  drank  out  of  the  same  bat- 
tered old  copper  drinking-vessel.  My  judgment  of  this 
desperado's  character  was  fully  b6rne  out  by  what  I  sub- 
sequently heard  of  him.  Countless  traits  came  to  my 
knowledge  \  some  betraying  a  reckless  ferocity  that  bor- 
dered upon  the  supernatural,  but  others  betokening  a 
sterling  uprightness  that  loathed  a  lie  of  any  sort,  and  that 
would  have  prompted  him  to  cut  off  his  hand  rather  than 
steal  a  loaf  of  bread. 

"And  this  man  a  common  poacher!"  the  reader  wifl 


AiV  ALP/iVE    IVALA'.  353 

exclaim.  Yes,  nothing  worse  and  nothing  better  than  a 
poacher  was  Jokel.  He  saw  no  more  wrong  in  killing  a 
chamois  —  in  his  eyes  a  free  gift  of  nature  —  than  in  pick- 
ing up  a  stone  on  the  high  road.  Who  had  a  better  right 
to  the  wild  denizens  of  the  Alps,  roaming  hither  and 
thither  from  pass  to  pass,  from  peak  to  peak,  than  he, 
the  free-born  child  of  nature,  whose  home,  the  wild  Alps, 
was  also  their  home,  and  who  was  willing  to  undergo 
privations  and  dangers  quite  unknown  to  the  legitimate 
owners  of  his  noble  game,  as  he  followed  them  alone  and 
unaided  by  beaters  and  huntsmen  from  crag  to  crag,  from 
ravine  to  ra\-ine,  exposed  night  and  day  to  the  same  in- 
clemencies of  climate,  to  the  same  dangers,  that  they,  the 
fleet  chamois,  had  to  undergo  ? 

And  yet  is  it  possible  that  a  phlegmatic  and  undemon- 
strative native,  whose  very  look,  whose  very  words,  seem  to 
betri^y  his  total  indifference  to  Nature's  charms,  could  be 
swayed  by  motives  other  than  sordid,  in  giving  chase  to 
the  wary  chamois  and  risking  life  and  limb  in  the  sport  ? 
Yet  this  is  the  case  ;  for  the  commonest  peasant  loves 
Nature,  though  probably  no  words  of  admiration  ever 
pass  his  lips,  far  more  intensely  than  the  stranger  tourist 
who,  though  with  difficulty,  finds  words  to  express  his 
feelings.  Because  their  undemonstrative  characters  shrink 
from  giving  utterance  to  their  sensations  in  the  voluble 
manner  peculiar  to  strangers,  we  must  not  conclude  that 
they  are  dead  to  the  charms  that  surround  them. 

Nay,  on  the  contrary,  love  of  nature  is  innate  with 
their  very  existence,  and  if  we  were  to  examine  their 
character  a  little  closer  we  would  find  that  they  are  hardly 
aware  of  the  presence  of  this  feeling  for  their  mountains 
and  their  chamois.  To  the  tourists  the  feeling  is  new, 
and  if  it  is  genuine,  it  is  but  natural  that  they  try  to  ex- 
press it  in  words,  though  a  remark  I  once  heard  from  a 
guide  is  very  true,  — 

"Why  the  goodness  don't  they"  (the  tourists)  "stop 
in  the  country,  if  thev  profess  to  admire  Nature  so  amaz- 
ingly?" 

Is  it  likely  that  Jokel,  or  any  other  strong,  vigorous 


354    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

man  able  to  gain  a  comfortable  livelihood,  had  he  turned 
laborer  or  peasant  farmer,  would  prefer,  were  it  not  for 
that  "  something "  that  lures  him  on  to  risk  his  life,  to 
undergo  untold  privations  merely  from  the  sordid  mo- 
tives that  prompt  the  common  run  of  poachers,  —  a 
"  something  "  that  lets  him  forget  the  hardships  of  the 
last  resultless  expedition,  that  makes  cold  bearable,  hun- 
ger pangless,  thirst  endurable,  and  the  facing  of  number- 
less dangers  a  very  pleasure  in  itself?  And  what  is  that 
mysterious  charm  that  seduces  the  man  from  steady 
lal3or,  from  a  comfortable  homestead,  but  the  love  for 
Nature  in  its  noblest  form  ? 

In  Jokel's  history  we  see  this  feeling  predominating  to 
a  more  than  common  extent.  The  son  of  well-to-do 
parents,  he  had  wasted  his  comfortable  patrimony.  Field 
after  field  was  sold  off  to  ransom  himself  from  prison,  and 
when  finally  all  was  gone,  he  disappeared  from  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  betook  himself  to  the  Bavarian  Highlands, 
where  he  soon  became  the  most  dreaded  poacher  near 
and  far.  Game  was  plentiful,  but  as  long  as  his  frugal 
v/ants  were  covered,  he  cared  not  what  became  of  the 
chamois  he  killed.  He  v/ould  hang  them  at  night  to  the 
door  of  one  of  the  keepers'  cottages,  or  in  the  same 
stealthy  manner  would  present  the  village  priests  with  a 
buck,  or  he  would  give  the  proceeds  of  his  raids  to  the 
poor.  He  was  only  happy  in  the  mountains,  and  when 
not  out  hunting,  he  would  roam  through  the  wildest  dis- 
tricts, or  engage  himself  as  a  woodcutter.  But  his  strange 
violence  of  character,  his  dislike  of  company,  and  his 
taciturn  hauteur,  won  him  no  friends  among  his  comrades, 
and  so  he  was  generally  shunned. 

The  strangest  tales  were  told  of  his  incredible  strength, 
—  how  he  once,  unarmed,  faced  a  mad  bull,  and  after  a 
severe  tussle  threw  him  on  his  back ;  how  he  saved  a 
couple  of  children  from  a  v/atery  grave  in  a  torrent ;  how 
he  battered  in,  with  his  head,  a  stout  oaken  house-door ; 
how  he  lifted  a  heavy  cart-horse  bodily  from  the  ground ; 
how  he  vanquished  seven  Bavarian  gendarmes,  who  were 
about  to  capture  him,  and  broke  their  bayonets  and  swords 
over  their  own  backs. 


AX  ALPINE  walk:  355 

With  all  his  fierce  recklessness,  Jokel  was  not  dead  to 
human  kindness,  as  is  strikingly  illustrated  by  one  of  his 
strange  freaks.  His  widowed  sister  was  wretchedly  poor, 
and,  when  Christmas  came  round,  had  scarcely  bit  or  sup 
in  her  cupboard.  Jokel  heard  of  her  distress  ;  and,  though 
winter  had  set  in  with  great  rigor,  he  immediately  started 
for  the  mountains,  vowing  he  would  not  return  without  a 
chamois  on  his  back.  And  he  did  it  too,  though  he  was 
out  six  days  without  shelter  or  fire  in  the  long  nights,  and 
exposed  to  the  terrible  cold  with  nothing  on  his  back  but 
his  coarse  shirt  and  his  frieze  jacket.  His  death,  the  re- 
sult of  his  fierce  untamable  temperament,  was  as  strange 
as  his  life.  I  will  tell  it  as,  some  months  after  the  occur- 
rence, Tonerl  told  it  to  me  while  sitting  at  my  side,  after 
a  hard  day's  climb  among  the  crags  and  peaks  which 
were  the  favorite  hunting-ground  of  the  dead  m.an. 

One  day  early  in  the  season,  Leiter  was  out  on  his 
regular  round,  and  while  passing  through  the  gorge  To- 
nerl and  I  were  now  occupying,  he  was  startled  by  the 
rolling  echoes  of  a  shot. 

Scrambling  up  a  projecting  crag  affording  a  good  view 
round,  he  whipped  out  his  telescope,  and  proceeded  to 
scan  the  bluffs  and  surrounding  heights.  Knowing  that 
Tonerl  was  at  home,  and  could  not  have  fired  the  shot, 
he  instinctively  attributed  it  to  our  ferocious  friend. 

"At  his  old  game  again,"  muttered  Leiter;  and  being 
well  acquainted  with  the  artful  character  of  the  poacher, 
he  watched  for  more  than  three  hours,  with  his  telescope 
constantly  at  his  eye,  but  no  trace  of  human  being  was 
discernible.  He  began  to  think  he  had  been  misled  by 
the  echo,  and  that  in  reality  the  shot  had  been  fired  in 
quite  another  direction. 

But  no.  "  There  !  I  am  right,  after  all,"  ejaculated 
wary  Leiter ;  for  just  as  he  was  examining  with  his  tele- 
scope a  boulder  with  some  brushwood  about  it,  he  saw  a 
hat  and  then  a  blackened  face  cautiously  raised  over  the 
stone  that  gave  shelter  to  the  rest  of  the  man's  body. 

"  Aha  !  got  you  at  last,  old  devil ;  this  time  you  won't 
escape  us  as  you  did  when  you  gave  us  the  slip  last  year, 


35 'J    GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

you  infernal  rascal,"  thought  Leiter,  as  he  continued  to 
watch  his  foe's  movements. 

Jokel  was  notorious  for  the  dare-devil  pranks  he  loved 
to  play  the  keepers  of  the  adjoining  estates,  who  stood  in 
no  little  fear  of  him. 

Just  a  twelvemonth  before,  Leiter  and  Tonerl  had  dis- 
covered Jokel  carrying  away  a  chamois  he  had  shot  on 
their  preserves,  quite  close  to  the  spot  he  was  now 
secreted  in.  They  gave  chase,  but  the  rascal  was  soon 
lost  to  their  eyes. 

Suddenly  they  heard  loud  jeering  laughter  right  over 
their  heads  ;  and  on  looking  up  the  perpendicular  face  of 
the  precipice  at  the  bottom  of  which  they  Avere  standing, 
they  saw  right  over  their  heads  Jokel,  picking  his  steps 
across  a  ledge  barely  broader  than  a  man's  foot,  and 
where  they,  good  mountaineers  as  they  both  were,  had 
never  dared  to  go.  The  fellow  was  too  high  up  for  a 
rifle-ball  to  reach  him. 

Presently  he  stopped,  and  increased  their  anger  not  a 
little  by  sliouting  down  most  insulting  epithets.  Tlie 
wily  old  dog  wanted  to  draw  them  on  to  a  certain  spot, 
where  he  intended  to  surprise  them  by  one  of  his  tricks. 

The  two  keepers  followed  the  base  of  the  wall  of  rock 
for  some  time,  imtil  they  saw  him  disappear  up  a  cleft 
shaped  just  like  a  chimney-flue.  He  gained  the  top  by 
swarming  up  just  in  the  fashion  of  chimney-sweeps, 
though,  of  course,  his  progress  was  fraught  with  great 
danger,  as  he  had  a  fifty-pound  chamois,  his  kit,  and  his 
rifle  on  his  back,  and  the  "  chimney  "  boasted  of  but 
three  sides,  the  fourtli  being  open. 

The  two  pursuers  hastened  their  steps,  as  they  imagined 
there  was  yet  a  chance  of  capturing  him  if  he  failed  to 
strike  the  right  patli  across  the  frontier.  They  had 
entered  a  deep  Graben,  tlie  sides  of  whicli  were  hardly 
more  than  fifty  or  sixty  yards  apart,  and  were  just  in  the 
middle  of  it  when  a  peal  of  laughter  again  jarred  on 
their  ears,  and  a  tremendous  shower  of  stones  of  all 
sizes  came  pelting  down  upon  them. 

The  walls  of  rock  aflbrded  no  shelter  whatever,  as  the 


AN  ALPIXE    IVALA-.  35  7 

Stones  rebounded  from  side  to  side,  and  there  was  not  a 
single  boulder  or  tree  in  the  dismal  Graben  behind  which 
they  could  seek  safety.  Nothing  remained  but  to  run, 
which  they  did  with  alacrity. 

A  second  and  third  shower  rattled  down  about  their 
ears,  but  they  escaped  without  a  scratch,  but  vowing  san- 
guinary revenge.  Dead  or  alive  they  would  get  him  the 
next  time  he  gave  them  a  chance. 

And  surely  this  time,  a  year  later,  Jokel's  skin  looked 
"  cheap."  Here  he  was,  right  under  the  telescope  of  his 
implacable  enemy,  the  keeper,  evidently  deeming  him- 
self unobser\-ed  by  mortal  being,  and  preparing  to  hide 
himself  and  the  game  he  had  killed,  for  the  rest  of  the 
day,  till  darkness  should  aid  his  escape  over  the  boundary. 

The  face  to  which  the  hat  belonged  turned  hither  and 
thither,  examining  with  the  most  minute  scrutiny  the  neigh- 
borhood. Every  thing  was  quiet,  and  Jokel's  suspicions 
were  lulled.  He  crawled  forth  from  behind  the  stone, 
and  ran  towards  a  slight  eminence,  behind  which  he  dis- 
appeared, returning,  however,  in  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes,  with  a  chamois  on  his  back.  The  wary  poacher 
had  observed  that  necessary  caution  of  lying  close  after 
firing  his  shot. 

But  this  time  it  availed  him  httle  ;  the  pitcher  was 
destined  to  break,  for  Leiter,  in  whose  ear  a  certain  scorn- 
ful laugh  still  tingled  with  unabated  vividness,  had  held 
out  on  his  post,  and  his  patience,  as  we  have  seen,  was 
rewarded  by  finally  discovering  the  malefactor. 

But  now  in  Leiter's  mind  arose  the  question  how  to 
get  at  the  poacher  so  as  to  CiTect  his  capture. 

The  distance  between  the  watcher  and  the  watched 
was  scarcely  more  than  three  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  but 
to  walk  it  would  take  more  than  double  that  number  of 
hours,  for  there  intei-vened  a  deep  impassable  gully,  at  the 
bottom  of  which  the  stream  boiled  and  seethed.  This 
obliged  one  to  make  an  immense  round  to  gain  the  oppo- 
site bank,  where  the  poacher  was  now  busy  britlling  the 
game. 

Leiter  continued  to  watch   his  movements,  and  saw 


35 S    GADD/A'GS    V/ITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

him  take  up  the  chamois  and  his  rifle,  and  bend  his  steps 
upwards  towards  a  precipice  which  rose  many  hundred 
feet  in  one  bold  bluff. 

When  Jokel  approached  the  wall,  he  proceeded  to  di- 
vest himself  of  his  shoes,  —  stockings  he  wore  none,  — 
and  commenced  to  pick  his  way  up  a  minute  slanting 
ledge.  When  he  got  to  the  end,  where  a  couple  of 
stunted  "  Latschen  "  gi"ew,  he  pulled  himself  up  by  the 
aid  of  their  tenacious  branches  to  a  sort  of  cavity  in  the 
rock,  which  Leiter  had  failed  to  obsen^e  until  the  poacher 
was  right  in  it. 

"  Ha  !  old  rascal,  is  that  your  game?  "  thought  Leiter, 
who  now  knew  that  Jokel  was  intending  to  occupy  this 
hiding-place  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  leave  when  night 
should  render  his  return  home  far  less  hazardous  than  it 
was  in  daytime. 

He  watched  him  settling  himself  down  on  the  jagged 
stones,  and  putting  the  dead  chamois  as  a  pillow  under- 
neath his  head,  evidently  intending  to  enjoy  a  nap. 

Leiter  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  found  that  it  was  nigh 
upon  twelve  o'clock. 

Would  he  have  tim^e  to  hasten  down  to  Vomperberg  to 
Tonerl's  cottage  ?  or  would  he  have  to  undertake  the  cap- 
ture alone?  The  latter  undertaking  seemed  somewhat 
too  dangerous.  Jokel's  dauntless  recklessness  he  well 
knew ;  and,  if  he  failed  to  catch  him  asleep,  the  odds 
would  be  greatly  against  himself,  for  Jokel  had  chosen  for 
his  resting-place  a  natural  fortress. 

One  man  only  could  ascend  the  ledge  at  a  time,  and 
the  formation  of  the  ground  was  such  that  from  no  point 
could  the  would-be  captors  fire  into  the  fortress,  while 
they,  on  the  contrary,  would  be  constantly  exposed  to 
the  poacher's  unerring  aim. 

Leiter  wavered  but  a  few  moments,  and  then  rushed 
down  the  steep  slope  on  his  way  home.  Within  two 
hours  he,  covered  with  perspiration,  reached  Tonerl's  hab- 
itation. Tonerl  was  at  home,  and  in  a  twinkling  had 
pulled  on  his  coat  and  shoes,  and  taken  up  his  rifle  and  a 
coil  of  rope  that  hung  on  the  next  peg.     Scarcely  five 


AjV  ALPINE    WALK.  359 

minutes  after  Leiter's  arrival  the  two  men  were  walking 
off  at  their  fastest. 

In  the  four  hours  they  took  to  reach  the  scene  of  ac- 
tion, they  had  ample  time  to  devise  the  best  means  of 
surprising  Jokel  before  he  should  have  time  to  offer  re- 
sistance. 

Long  before  they  reached  the  neighborhood  of  the 
precipice,  in  a  cleft  of  which  old  Jokel  lay  hid  (asleep 
too,  it  was  to  be  hoped),  they  refrained  from  talking  or 
making  the  slightest  noise,  lest  his  sharp  ears  should  de- 
tect them  approaching. 

By  the  time  they  got  to  the  base  of  the  precipice  it 
was  nearly  six  o'clock ;  the  sun  was  going  down,  and  it 
was  high  time  to  begin  their  operations,  lest  darkness 
should  enable  their  foe  to  make  good  his  escape. 

Tonerl,  taking  off  his  shoes,  crept  up  the  slanting  ledge, 
Leiter  following  as  close  in  his  wake  as  possible,  both 
holding  their  guns  at  full  cock. 

The  former  had  very  nearly  gained  the  height,  and  was 
just  about  to  lay  hold  of  the  Latschen  branches  to  pull 
himself  up,  when  Jokel,  v»-ho  had  been  lying  awake  for 
some  time,  heard  them,  and,  with  a  terrible  oath  pushed 
the  Xatschen  apart  to  enable  him  to  see  who  v.^as  there. 
To  see  Tonerl,  and  to  level  his  rifle  at  Leiter,  who  was 
just  about  to  reciprocate,  were  the  vv'ork  of  a  moment. 
Ti'he  former,  wlio  was  hanging  on  the  branches,  could  not 
of  course  use  his  own  weapon,  but,  what  v^'as  far  better,  he 
swung  himself  up,  and  at  the  very  moment  Jokel  fired, 
struck  aside  his  rifle.  It  went  off,  however,  and  the  next 
moment  the  two  men  were  grappling  on  the  miniature 
platform  edged  by  the  gulf.  Leiter  quickly  came  to  his 
comrade's  rescue,  and  the  poacher  was  overpowered. 

After  he  had  received  a  sound  thrashing  by  his  captors, 
tliey  proceeded  to  take  him  down. 

'I'liis  they  had  to  do  with  great  caution,  for  the  difficult 
descent  obliged  them  to  allow  Jokel  to  accomphsh  it 
unbound.  In  front  crept  Tonerl,  then  came  their  pris- 
oner followed  by  Leiter  with  his  rifle  at  full  cock,  and 
vowing  he  would  shoot  him  the   instant  he    made   the 


o 


60    CADDIXGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 


slightest  attempt  to  escape.  This  they  were  afraid  he 
would  try  by  a  bold  jump  down  the  miniature  precipice, 
some  eighteen  or  twenty  feet  in  height,  at  their  very  side. 

When  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the  wall,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  bind  their  prisoner's  hands.  Then  only  it 
appeared  that  his  right  hand  was  shattered  into  splinters. 
His  rifle,  a  clumsy  old  arm,  had  burst.  Though  his 
wound  must  have  pained  him  desperately,  he  did  not 
utter  a  groan.  His  firmly-set  teeth,  gleaming  out  from 
his  black  face  besmeared  with  blood,  and  his  eyes,  glit- 
tering fiercely  from  behind  the  shaggy  hair  which  hung 
down  his  forehead,  were  all  that  told  of  his  sufferings, 
enhanced  though  they  were  a  thousand-fold  by  his  igno- 
minious capture. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  the  two  keepers  arrived  at 
Tonerl's  cottage  with  their  captive.  Here  his  wound  was 
washed  and  bound  up,  prior  to  his  being  delivered  up  to 
the  authorities  at  Hall,  some  four  or  five  hours'  walk  off. 
When  they  arrived  there,  Jokel  obstinately  refused  to 
have  his  wound  attended  by  a  doctor ;  and  when,  after 
getting  him  securely  manacled,  the  surgeon  managed  to 
amputate  the  hand,  he  succeeded  in  tearing  off  the  ban- 
dages with  his  teeth.  The  next  day  mortification  set  in, 
and  the  third  day  ferocious  Jokel  was  dead. 

So  ended  the  life  of  this  iron-hearted  son  of  nature ; 
and,  in  the  eyes  of  his  captors,  his  last  act  was  not  one 
to  lessen  the  awe  in  which  they  had  stood  of  him. 

To  him,  as  to  so  many  of  his  confreres,  a  death-shot 
received  in  the  open  is  but  what,  during  a  course  of  years, 
was  constantly  expected,  and  never  brings  with  it  any 
other  feeling  than  "  that  it  was  to  be  ;  "  but  to  suffer  igno- 
minious imprisonment  at  the  hands  of  the  servants  of  the 
law  which,  from  his  youth,  he  had  loved  but  to  defeat,  was 
to  him  a  disgrace  he  could  not  live  through.  We  leave 
him  at  rest  at  last,  reposing  under  a  modest  wooden  cross 
in  the  cemetery  at  Hall. 


WINTER  ASCENT  OF  THE   GROSS  GLOCKNER.      361 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  WINTER  ASCENT   OF   THE   GROSS   GLOCKNER. 

AMONG  the  manifold  descriptions  and  recitals  of  trav- 
els and  tours  in  T}to1,  there  are  none  that  deal  with 
the  country  and  its  features  during  winter-time. 

Travelers  visiting  the  country  in  the  full  tide  of  sun- 
shine and  warmth  have,  I  am  afraid,  very  little  concep- 
tion of  what  it  is  like  in  the  rough  season  of  the  year,  and 
still  less  idea  of  the  terrible  straits  in  which  the  frugal 
inhabitants  are  involved  by  a  fall  of  snow  three  to  five 
feet  high,  for  four  and  five  months  of  the  year. 

I  have  frequently  been  amused  to  observe  the  curling 
lip  and  half-scornful  smile  of  some  native,  as  he  watched 
the  abortive  attempt  of  a  shivering  tourist  on  a  wet  day 
in  July  or  August,  to  seek  shelter  and  warmth  in  the  ample 
folds  of  a  shawl  or  greatcoat ;  and  considering  that  this 
very  same  mountaineer,  attired  in  the  very  same  garb  that 
he  wears  in  summer,  short  leathers  and  frieze  coat,  will 
brave  a  cold  of  the  intensity  of  which  we  in  England  can 
form  no  conception,  his  scornful  derision  at  the  effemi- 
nate stranger  may  well  be  understood.  In  those  parts  of 
Tyrol  north  of  the  vast  mountain  chain  which  divides  the 
country  into  halves,  winter  lasts  for  many  months  ;  indeed, 
to  speak  more  definitely,  the  fact  may  be  mentioned  that 
in  the  courtyard  of  Castle  Matzen,  snow  lay  from  Nov. 
13,  1874,  till  the  first  week  of  the  following  May.  Many 
valleys  are  entirely  cut  off  from  the  world,  every  com- 
munication being  stopped  by  the  depth  of  snow  on  the 
paths  and  roads  that  connect  them  with  the  next  large 
village  or  town. 


o 


62    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


On  the  mountains  the  snow  accumulates  to  an  aston- 
ishing depth,  masses  twelve  and  fifteen  feet  being  by  no 
means  unusual ;  and  Alp-huts  situated  a  few  thousand 
feet  above  the  base  of  the  adjacent  valley  disappear 
entirely. 

A  short  time  ago  I  was  one  of  a  party  of  about  twenty 
men  that  were  called  together  to  aid  an  old  couple  whose 
hut  had  been  entirely  buried  by  snow.  After  a  terribly 
fatiguing  march  up  slopes  which,  owing  to  their  steepness, 
were  covered  by  only  three  or  feet  of  snow,  we  reached 
the  site  of  the  hut ;  nothing  but  a  gable  of  the  roof  showed 
that  we  were  standing  right  over  it. 

A  trench  dug  down  to  the  door  enabled  us  at  last  to 
deliver  the  old  people,  who  had  been  thus  imprisoned  for 
nine  days.  Fortunately  they  had  a  goat  in  their  hut,  and 
a  few  loaves  of  bread  in  their  store-room ;  v^^ithout  these 
they  would  have  perished  by  starvation  long  before  our 
arms  and  shovels  could  have  liberated  them  from  their 
living  grave. 

Two  incidents  of  my  own  experience  will  illustrate  the 
difficulties  attendant  upon  winter-sport  in  a  severe  winter 
in  the  Tyrol :  the  first  a  shooting-adventure  in  a  remote 
Tyrolese  valley  well  stocked  with  game  ;  the  second  an 
ascent  of  one  of  the  highest  mountain-peaks  in  mid- 
winter. 

The  autumn  of  1874  was,  as  those  of  my  readers  who 
happened  to  be  on  the  Continent  at  that  period  will  un- 
doubtedly recollect,  a  remarkably  fine  one. 

On  November  the  8th,  with  ten  companions,  natives  of 
the  B valley  in  North  Tyrol,  I  started  on  a  sporting- 
expedition,  intending  to  be  away  five  or  six  days. 

Our  goal  was  a  remote  little  Alpine  ravine  surrounded 
by  high  peaks,  affording  the  very  best  sport  possible.  As 
our  quarters  we  chose  one  of  those  odd  "  Wurzenhiitten  " 
—  a  small  chalet  where  in  summer-time  spirits  are  dis- 
tilled from  the  fragrant  herbs  (especially  the  gentiana) 
that  grow  on  the  slopes  and  rocks.  This  hut,  about 
6,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  is  one  of  the  high- 
est-situated of  the  kind  I  know,  and,  for  its  remote  posi- 


WIXTER  ASCEXr  OF  THE  GROSS  CLOCKXER.      363 

tion,  the  fact  that  we  had  a  ten-hours'  march  to  it  from 
the  last  human  habitation  v/ill  speak  for  itself.  We  of 
course  expected  to  find  the  hut  untenanted,  the  season 
being  so  very  far  advanced  ;  what  was  therefore  our  sur- 
prise, on  reaching  the  chalet,  to  find  it  inhabited  by  the 
young  daughter  of  the  old  rascal  v.^ho  was  owner  of  this 
illicit  distillery  ! 

I  must  mention  that  the  reason  of  its  inaccessibility  is 
to  be  found  in  the  excise-laws  of  Austria.  All  spirits  are 
subject  to  a  heavy  duty,  and  the  purpose  of  the  owners 
of  these  secret  distilleries  is,  of  course,  simply  to  defraud 
Government.-'  Lena  (the  daughter)  had  been  obliged  to 
remain  "  on  high,"  in  order  to  finish  a  certain  quantity 
of  spirits  ordered  by  the  innkeeper  of  her  native  village. 

The  first  four  days  were  warm  and  balmy,  and  our 
sport  capital ;  five  chamois,  four  roedeer,  and  three  splen- 
did harts  rewarded  our  pains.  The  fifth  day,  Nov.  13, 
the  weather  changed,  and  snow  began  to  fall  in  such 
masses  that  on  the  eve  of  the  third  day  we  found,  on  our 
return  to  the  hut,  just  the  roof-beams  sticking  out  of  the 
snow.  Lena,  our  cook,  was  glad  to  see  daylight  again, 
when,  after  some  considerable  trouble,  we  managed  to 
dig  a  sort  of  cutting  down  to  the  door.  Our  bag  had 
now  increased  to  twenty-five  head  in  all,  —  nine  chamois, 
six  roedeer,  and  ten  harts. 

The  snow  still  continued  to  fall,  and  owing  to  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  previous  day  we  decided  to  remain  within 
our  hut,  and  not  to  venture  out  into  the  wilderness  of 
snow.  Every  three  or  four  hours  two  or  three  of  us  took 
turns  with  the  spade,  which  we  had  fortunately  discovered 
in  the  hut,  to  keep  open  our  passage  in  front  of  the  door. 
A  pack  of  terribly  greasy  cards  and  an  ample  store  of 
tobacco  and  spirits  helped  to  while  away  that  long  day ; 
the  next  was  no  better,  the  third  just  the  same,  and  at 
last,  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth,  the  sky  cleared,  and  it 
ceased  snowing.  To  return  to  the  village  was,  until  the 
snow  should  be  settled  down,  an  impossibility. 

I  The  quantities  produced  in  these  distilleries  are  very  small,  some  distilleries 
averaging  not  more  than  ten  or  twelve  gallons  per  annum.  . 


364    GADDINGS  WiriT  A   PRTMTTIVE  PEOPLE. 

Shooting  was  likewise  impracticable,  and  so  we  had 
simply  to  wait  till  the  cold  rendered  the  snow  more  capa- 
ble of  sustaining  the  weight  of  a  man  with  snow-hoops. 
With  the  latter  we  were  unprovided,  never  imagining  that 
such  a  terrific  fall  of  snow  would  imprison  us.  With  a 
little  patience,  a  sharp  knife,  a  bit  of  string  and  cord,  and 
the  tough  branches  of  the  fir-tree,  we  managed  to  man- 
ufacture serviceable  substitutes,  so  that  at  the  end  of  six 
more  days  we  started,  and  after  a  most  fatiguing  march 
of  nearly  twenty  hours  we  reached  the  snowed-up  village. 

Lena,  with  admirable  fortitude  and  a  remarkable  degi-ee 
of  endurance,  kept  up  with  us  in  good  style,  though  of 
course  she  had  the  benefit  of  our  steps,  or  rather  knee- 
deep  holes  in  the  snow,  she  bringing  up  the  rear  of  our 
long  file. 

The  lighter  head  of  game,  such  as  roe  and  chamois, 
we  caiTied  along  with  us ;  the  rest  we  buried  in  the  snow. 

On  arriving  at  the  village  late  at  night,  we  found  every- 
body in  commotion,  and  full  of  anxiety  on  our  account. 
On  the  morrov/  they  had  intended  to  send  a  large  body 
of  men  to  our  aid.  Our  absence  of  more  than  seventeen 
days,  coupled  with  the  amazingly  heavy  fall  of  snow,  had 
made  the  villagers  fear  some  accident  might  have  befallen 
us. 

Lena,  in  her  short  leather  breeches,  —  she  had  donned 
a  pair  of  her  father's,  which  had  been  left  in  the  hut,  so 
as  to  be  able  to  walk  unhampered  by  the  skirts  of  her 
dress,  —  created  quite  a  stir ;  and  indeed  the  poor  girl, 
dead  with  fatigue,  well  deserved  the  warm  praise  and  the 
hearty  shake  of  many  a  brawny  palm  extended  to  her  in 
recognition  of  her  brave  spirit. 

A  week  afterwards  twenty-one  young  fellows,  armed 
with  shovels  and  snow-hoops,  returned  to  the  hut  to  fetch 
the  ten  stags  still  buried  in  the  snow. 

I  was  unfortunately  unable  to  accompany  them,  but 
saw  some  of  them  a  few  days  after  their  return. 

Sleighs  being  impracticable,  the  men  had  to  carry  the 
stags  on  their  shoulders ;  and,  amazing  as  it  may  seem, 
there  were  three  or  four  among  the  lot  who  each  carried 


WIXTER  ASCENT  OF  THE   GROSS  GI.OCKNER.      365 

a  stag  for  nearly  an  hour  at  a  time.  As  the  weight  of  a 
hart  showing  eight  or  ten  points  is  considerably  more 
than  three  hundred  pounds,  this  may  serve  to  show  the 
powerful  build  and  great  strength  of  some  of  the  inhabit- 
ants of  remote  valleys. 

The  "  Ortlcr  Spitze  "  and  the  "  Gross  Glockner  "  are 
the  two  highest  mountains  in  Tyrol.  Both  close  upon 
thirteen  thousand  feet,  the  latter  was  formerly  supposed 
to  be  the  loftier  of  the  two  ;  but  lately,  owing  to  more 
accurate  measurements,  the  Ortler  has  been  found  to  be 
a  hundred  feet  higher.  Though  of  a  greater  height,  the 
latter  is  not  nearly  so  noble  a  peak.  Not  unlike  the  Mat- 
terhorn,  the  Glockner  is  from  several  points  of  view  even 
of  a  sharper  and  more  needle-like  formation. 

Several  ascents  of  this  peak  in  the  summer  months  — 
the  Glockner  is  by  no  means  a  difificult  mountain,  and 
e\"en  ladies  have  ascended  it  —  developed  in  me  the  wish 
to  try  once  an  ascent  in  the  depth  of  winter ;  and  though 
I  frequently  thought  of  this  plan  for  several  consecutive 
years,  I  never  had  the  opportunity  or  time  to  carry  it  into 
execution. 

At  last,  in  December,  1874, 1  resolved  to  take  advantage 
of  a  fortnight's  spare  time,  and  try  the  ascent^  I  had  de- 
termined upon  years  ago. 

From  what  I  knew  of  the  peak  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  any  attempt  must  be  made  from  Kals  ;  there  being  two 
points  from  whence  this  peak  can  be  ascended,  Kals  and 
Heiligen  Blut. 

To  Thomas  Groder,  the  head  of  the  guides  at  Kals,  a 
man  of  great  experience  in  all  matters  of  mountaineering, 
I  expressed  my  desire  to  receive  accurate  information  re- 
specting the  depth  of  snow,  and  state  of  the  latter,  —  if  yet 
soft,  or  already  coated  with  a  crust  of  ice. 

The  answer  I  received  was  certainly  not  encouraging  : 
snow  nearly  five  feet  deep  in  the  valley,  very  soft,  and  the 
probability  that  no  guide  would  venture  to  undertake  so 
])erilous  an  attempt. 

Not  easily  daunted,  I  determined  to  convince  myself 

1  Sec  the  Alpine  Journal,  May,  1875. 


356     GADDIXGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

by  eyesight  of  the  real  state  of  things.  A  raihvay  journey 
of  ten  hours  —  we  were  snowed  up  twice  —  brought  me 
to  Lienz,  in  the  Pusterthal.  Engaging  a  sleigh,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  the  "Huben,"  a  comfortable  inn  on  the  road 
irom  Lienz  to  Windish  Matrei,  at  the  point  where  tlie  \al- 
ley  in  which  Kals  is  situated  branches  off.  My  coachman 
laughed  right  in  my  face  when  I  answered  his  question, 
what  brought  me,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and  of  so  severe 
a  winter  too,  into  the  valley  of  Matrei,  by  telling  him  that 
I  intended  to  ascend  the  Gross  Glockner.  "  Why,  that  is 
beyond  what  a  mad  Englishman  would  do,"  exclaimed 
the  astonished  native,  little  imagining  he  was  in  reality 
addressing  a  member  of  the  mad  "  Englander  nation." 
'■'  Why,  look  only  at  the  eight-feet-high  wall  of  snow 
(lining  the  road,  cleared  by  means  of  a  huge  snow-plow 
drawn  by  twelve  horses),  and  imagine  what  must  be  the 
depth  of  the  snow  high  up  yonder  mountains ;  and  they 
are  about  a  third  of  the  Gross  Glockner's  height." 

Indeed,  the  aspect  of  things  was  any  thing  but  prom- 
ising, and  my  driver's  gloomy  prophecy  did  not  tend  to 
brighten  my  hopes. 

At  the  inn  I  discharged  the  sleigh,  intending  to  stop  the 
night  there,  and  proceed  next  morning  on  foot  to  Kals. 
I  ordered  my  supper  to  be  brought  into  the  bar-room,  in 
order  to  indulge  in  a  chat  with  mine  host,  whom  I  knew 
from  former  times.  Even  he,  who,  I  felt  sure,  had  a  high 
opinion  of  my  mountaineering  experience,  thought  me 
demented  to  venture  on  such  a  trip.  "  In  other  winters 
there  might  be  a  chance  of  succeeding,  but  this  year  will 
be  an  unprecedentedly  severe  one :  you  have  not  a 
shadow  of  a  chance  to  reach  even  a  height  of  S.ooo  feet." 

Resolved  upon  trying  what  perseverance  in  a  good 
cause  could  accomplish,  I  started  next  morning  at  an  early 
hour  for  Kals. 

A  four-hours'  tough  struggle  with  snow,  which  had  fallen 
to  a  depth  of  nearly  a  foot  on  the  path  made  in  the  deep 
snow  the  day  before  by  the  villagers  passing  to  and  from 
the  larger  Matrei  valley,  brought  me  to  my  destination. 

The  greater  part  of  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  Dec.  29, 


IVIXTER  ASCENT  OF  THE  GROSS  GLOCKNER.      367 

was  spent  in  serious  consultation  with  several  guides, 
chiefly  with  Groder,  their  head.  The  verdict  was  unani- 
mous :  "  Impossible  ;  but  if  you  will  pay  us  well,  we  will 
try  how  far  we  can  get  up  on  the  slopes  of  the  Gross 
Glockner." 

Now,  to  try,  and  not  succeed,  did  not  suit  my  plans  at 
all.  I  told  them,  however,  that  I  was  willing  to  enter  upon 
'•  their  "  proposition,  and  would  engage  all  such  men  as 
would  volunteer,  and  who  had  had  some  practice  in  bat- 
tling with  snow,  as  chamois-stalkers.  I  left  them  twenty- 
four  hours  to  consider  "  my  "  proposition,  and  at  their 
termination  four  men  offered  themselves  for  the  dangerous 
work. 

It  continued  snowing  on  the  30th,  and  on  the  forenoon 
of  the  31st,  December. 

On  New  Year's  Eve,  towards  dusk,  the  wind  changed 
and  the  weather  cleared,  so  that  when  I  went  out  in  the 
open  air  in  front  of  the  house,  a  few  minutes  before  mid- 
night, in  order  to  hear  them  ring  in  the  New  Year,  the 
stars  were  shining  brightly,  and  the  thermometer,  my  con- 
stant companion  in  those  anxious  days,  was  marking  1 1°  R. 
(or  5°  Fah.).  I  returned  to  bed  full  of  hope  that  the  next 
day  would  witness  our  departure,  but  sorry  that  my  fa\-or- 
ite  project  of  reaching  the  top  of  the  Giant's  Peak  on  New 
Year's  Day  had  become  impossible,  not  only  on  account 
of  the  unpropitious  state  of  the  weather  on  the  morning 
of  the  31st,  but  also  owing  to  the  religious  scruples  of  my 
four  guides,  who  refused  to  be  absent  from  the  morning 
sen-ice  on  New  Year's  Day. 

The  tolling  bells  and  the  bright  sun  shining  into  my 
comfortable  wainscoted  chamber  vroke  me  at  eight 
o'clock.  Looking  out  of  the  window,  which  I  had  to 
open  to  be  able  to  see  any  thing,  my  joy  can  be  imagined 
at  seeing  a  bright  sky  and  a  further  retreat  of  the  quick- 
silver (hung  up  in  a  shady  corner)  \  it  now  marked  12°  R., 
thus  rendering  it  very  probable  that  the  snow  would  be  in 
that  state  termed  by  the  natives  "  harscht,"  able  to  bear  a 
man's  weight,  spread,  as  it  would  be,  over  the  broad  sur- 
face covered  by  the  snow-hoop. 


368    GADDINGS    WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

After  their  dinner,  or,  in  other  words,  at  half-past  eleven 
in  the  forenoon,  we  met  for  a  final  consultation  in  the 
crowded  bar-room  of  the  Wirthshaus.  We  five  were 
determined  to  start,  however  strong  and  vociferous  might 
be  the  party  opposed  to  the  whole  undertaking.  With  the 
words,  "Hinsein  konnen  wir  nur  oin  mal,"  or  "Die  we 
can  but  once,"  the  leader  of  my  intrepid  little  party,  Peter 
Groder,  closed  the  consultation,  and  they  all  left  for  their 
several  homes,  to  change  their  dress  and  bid  good-bye  to 
their  families.  The  provisions,  four  bottles  of  wine,  two 
bottles  of  schnapps,  three  of  cold  tea,  some  lard,  flour, 
sugar,  salt,  six  loaves  of  bread,  tea  and  coffee,  were  all 
collected  on  the  center-table  of  the  room. 

At  one  o'clock  the  men  returned,  and  we  set  about 
dividing  the  stores  into  five  equal  parts.  I  was  determined 
to  carry  my  own  share,  and,  in  fact,  by  taking  upon  myself 
an  accurate  fifth  part  of  all  danger,  work,  and  fatigue,  not 
to  give  the  men  a  chance  of  turning  upon  me  with  the 
excuse  that  they  carried  more  than  I  did,  or  that  I  took 
the  lazy  man's  post  at  the  rear  of  the  party. 

Punctually  at  two  in  the  afternoon  we  started.  Our 
aspect,  wending  our  steps  in  single  file  through  the  narrow 
cutting  in  the  deep  mass  of  snow  that  lay  between  the 
houses  of  the  village,  must  have  been  extremely  comical. 

A  fool's  errand  it  seemed  from  the  beginning  to  the 
greater  part  of  the  villagers,  but  never  more  so  than  now. 
Each  man  bore  on  his  back  an  ample  Rucksack,  from 
which  dangled  on  one  side  the  large  snow-hoops,  from 
the  other  a  pair  of  crampons,  while  a  short  ax,  or  large 
bundles  of  dry  wood,  or  the  handle  of  a  gigantic  iron  pan, 
or  coil  of  rope,  were  the  visible  contents  of  the  several 
bags,  as  we  passed  the  criticising  review  of  numerous 
groups  of  natives  and  guides,  who  had  turned  out  to 
witness  our  departure. 

For  nearly  an  hour  and  a  half  we  found  a  comfortable 
path  connecting  the  outlying  peasant-houses  with  the 
village. 

At  the  last  house  we  halted  for  a  moment,  strapped  the 
snow-hoops  to  our  feet,  and  began  work  in  earnest.     Con- 


WIXTER  ASCEXT  OF  THE  GROSS  GLOCKXER.      369 

trary  to  our  expectations,  we  found  the  snow  in  the  very 
worst  state.  Fine-grained  and  dust-Hke,  it  did  not  resist 
our  weight  in  the  very  least ;  and  when,  at  the  outset,  I 
saw  my  front  man  sink  in  up  to  his  thighs,  my  hopes  grew 
faint,  and  I  heard  several  \-ery  distinct  grumbling  sounds 
from  the  three  men  walking  in  my  rear. 

We  plowed  on,  however,  doing  oiu"  duty  in  a  manful 
and  spirited  way.  Every  quarter  of  an  hour  we  changed 
leaders,  the  latter,  of  course,  having  comparatively  the 
most  fatiguing  work,  making  the  steps  for  his  companions. 

At  five  or  half-past  darkness  set  in ;  and,  lighting  our 
two  large  lanterns,  we  continued  our  march  by  their  light. 

At  nine  o'clock  or  thereabouts,  we  reached  the  ''Jor- 
genhut,"  a  chalet  tenanted  in  summer  by  a  herd  and  his 
cattle,  and  of  late  years  but  rarely  used  by  mountaineers 
as  their  night-quarters,  the  comfortable  "  Stiidlhiitte,"  two 
hours  farther  up,  being  a  far  preferable  abode  for  a  night. 

We  halted,  and,  digging  a  sort  of  passage  to  the  door- 
way, —  the  snow  reached  up  to  the  rafters  of  the  hut,  — 
we  entered  the  desolate  habitation.  Here  we  intended 
to  leave  the  bulk  of  our  various  utensils  not  actually 
required  in  the  ascent. 

After  some  trouble  we  lit  a  fire  with  the  wood  we  had 
brought  with  us ;  and  half  an  hour  later  we  were  sitting 
round  a  gigantic  pan  filled  to  the  brim  with  "  Schmarn," 
and  a  large  iron  pot  full  of  strong  tea. 

\Ve  had  determined  to  try  the  ascent  by  a  route 
entirely  impracticable  in  summer ;  and,  as  the  Jorgenhut 
was  the  last  Alp-hut  on  our  way,  it  would  be  our  last  meal 
till  we  returned.  No  wonder  we  sat  nearly  two  hours 
over  our  supper,  making  it  necessary,  in  fact,  to  cook  a 
second  edition  of  the  "Schmarn,"  and  to  make  a  third 
and  fourtli  jorum  of  tea. 

At  midnight  we  started,  leaving  every  thing  behind 
save  some  bread,  meat,  a  bottle  of  schnapps,  one  of  tea 
and  one  of  wine,  and  the  implements,  such  as  ropes, 
crampons,  (S:c.,  necessary  for  the  ascent  itself.  The  night 
was  one  of  intense  cold  ;  the  thermometer  on  leaving  the 
hut  marked  1 7°  R.,  or  6°  below  0°  Fah. 


370    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

For  two  hours  our  road  lay  along  a  small  valley ;  at 
the  end  very  steep  slopes  ensued,  terminating  in  the  large 
Kodnitz  glacier,  forming  a  sort  of  slightly-inclined  plateau. 
At  the  extreme  end  of  it,  in  one  bold  sweep  of  more  than 
4,000  feet,  rises  the  noble  Gross  Glockner  itself. 

On  reaching  the  slopes  leading  to  the  glacier,  we 
changed  our  respective  positions,  leaving  a  space  of  some 
thirty  yards  between  each  of  us.  The  first  man,  the 
center  man,  and  the  rear  man  were  supplied  each  with  a 
lantern.  The  great  danger  of  avalanches,  frequently  set 
into  motion  by  the  mere  vibration  of  the  air  resulting  from 
a  shot  or  loud  shout,  made  great  precaution  necessary. 

Peter  Groder,  to  whom  I  had  given  the  command  of 
the  party,  and  who  was  by  far  the  best  man  of  the  guides, 
had  had  the  misfortune  to  get  into  avalanches  twice  in 
his  life,  but  was  saved  on  both  occasions  by  miracles. 

V/e  had  been  ascending  the  slope  for  about  an  hour  or 
so,  when  suddenly  the  solemn  stillness  reigning  around  us 
was  broken  by  a  rumbling  sound,  increasing  in  intensity 
from  second  to  second,  and  making  the  very  earth  shake 
and  tremble.  A  huge  avalanche,  measuring  some  hun- 
dreds of  yards  in  breadth  and  thirty  or  forty  feet  in  depth, 
thundered  down  the  adjacent  slopes,  in  unpleasant  prox- 
imity to  the  place  on  which  we  were  standing.  I  was 
just  then  the  leading  man,  and  on  looking  back  towards 
Peter,  who  was  walking  at  my  rear,  I  perceived  him  and 
his  three  companions  engaged  in  a  whispered  consulta- 
tion. Turning,  I  learned  on  my  approach  that  Peter, 
unhinged  and  frightened,  was  endeavoring  to  prevail 
upon  the  others  to  turn  back.  It  cost  me  ten  minutes' 
talk  to  persuade  him  to  continue  the  ascent.  Silently, 
not  daring  to  speak  a  loud  word,  we  climbed  on,  now 
sinking  up  to  our  chests  in  heaps  of  drifted  snow,  now 
traversing  the  firm  pathway  of  an  avalanche,  only  to  sink 
in  far  over  our  knees  on  leaving  the  track  of  our  danger- 
ous foe. 

Two  more  avalanches  passed  us  that  night ;  and  each 
time  Groder,  daring  and  bold  as  he  was  on  all  other  occa- 
sions of  danger,  evinced  signs  of  fear,  and  but  for  my 
arguments  he  would  have  turned  back  each  time. 


WINTER  ASCEXT  OF  THE  GROSS  GLOCKNER.      371 

At  half-past  three  we  reached  the  glacier,  and  travers- 
ing its  breadth,  we  came  to  another  bit  of  stiffish  cUmbing. 
At  half-past  six  or  se\-en  we  were  standing  on  the  top  of 
a  narrow  ridge,  the  •'  Adlersruhe,"  that  connects  the  Gross 
Glockner  with  some  minor  peaks  on  its  right. 

Here  we  saw  the  sun  rise,  a  spectacle  of  unique  grand- 
eur. The  cold  had  abated,  but  the  wind,  terribly  keen, 
was  sufificient  to  freeze  the  marrow  in  our  bones. 

On  looking  towards  the  mountain  which  rose  in  a  fear- 
fully steep  incline  from  the  point  we  were  occupying,  we 
perceived  by  the  rays  of  the  sun  that  the  whole  grand 
peak  was  one  mass  of  pure  ice. 

Unfortunately  we  had  never  thought  of  this  possibility, 
and  had  therefore  failed  to  provide  ourselves  with  ice- 
axes.  The  men,  amazed  to  find  ice,  were  for  the  first 
moment  quite  thunderstruck,  —  indeed,  my  own  feelings 
were  very  much  of  the  same  tenor  as  those  of  my  four 
guides.  Fastening  ourselves  together  with  the  rope,  and 
leaving  the  lanterns  and  snow-hoops  behind  us,  we  deter- 
mined to  try  at  least  what  could  be  done  with  the  aid  of 
the  iron  shovel  and  the  sharp  and  long-pronged  Alpen- 
stocke,  and  cramptons  on  our  feet. 

Hard  and  dangerous  work  it  proved  to  be,  and  had  we 
only  had  an  ax  we  should  have  reached  our  goal  (not 
more  than  two  thousand  feet  over  our  heads)  at  least  an 
hour  and  a  half  or  two  hours  sooner. 

Cutting  steps  with  an  iron  shovel  into  hard  ice  on  a 
very  steep  incline,  while  the  wind,  cold  and  piercing,  was 
blowing  big  guns,  was  no  very  inviting  occupation. 

The  top  of  the  peak  is  divided  by  a  sort  of  incision  — 
the  Saddle  —  into  two  distinct  horns,  one  the  Gross 
Glockner,  about  a  hundred  feet  higher  than  the  other, 
the  Klein  Glockner,  which  latter  we  had  to  pass  on  our 
way  to  the  former.  At  half-past  nine  we  were  standing 
on  the  top  of  the  lower  horn,  and  there  came  across  a 
phenomenon  which  had  never  been  witnessed  by  any  of 
us  five. 

The  top  of  the  Klein  Glockner  is  ordinarily  a  mere 
sharp,  knife-like  edge  running  towards  the  more  elevated 


372    GADDINGS  WITH  A   PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

peak,  and  divided  from  it,  as  I  have  said,  by  the  Saddle. 
Instead  of  this  we  found  on  reaching  the  top  that  we 
were  standing  on  a  broad  platform  some  sixty  feet  long, 
and  from  twelve  to  sixteen  feet  vv^ide. 

I  was  at  that  moment  the  second  in  the  file,  and  stick- 
ing my  Bergstock  —  a  stout  ash  pole  seven  feet  long  — 
into  the  half-frozen  snow,  which  formed  the  platform,  I 
found  that  it  penetrated,  and  Avould  have  slipped  through 
had  I  not  held  it  firmly.  On  looking  down  through  the 
hole  which  I  had  made  with  the  alpenstock  I  perceived, 
perpendicularly  some  four  thousand  feet  below  me,  the 
Pasterze  Glacier.  Of  course  we  retreated  precipitately ; 
but  nevertheless  I  and  the  leading  guide  had  been  stand- 
ing for  some  minutes  on  a  shelf  of  snow  which  the  wind 
had  drifted  against  the  smooth  surface  of  the  precipice 
forming  the  northern  side  of  the  Klein  Glockner. 

It  is  wonderful  that  this  shelf,  not  thicker  than  three 
feet  where  it  joined  the  rock,  should  have  withstood  our 
double  weight ;  and  at  the  same  time  it  serves  to  illus- 
trate the  incredible  force  of  gales  in  winter-time  at  high 
elevations. 

The  "  saddle  "  over  which  we  had  to  pass  was  a  decid- 
edly bad  place,  and  even  in  summer,  when  the  wire  rope 
that  has  been  fastened  across  it  can  be  used,  every  pre- 
caution is  necessary.  Now  the  rope  was  invisible,  embed- 
ded in  ice,  in  fact,  and  consequently  we  were  obliged  to 
walk  for  thirty  or  forty  feet  along  an  edge  not  broader 
than  nine  or  ten  inches,  having  on  both  sides  precipices 
three  thousand  and  four  thousand  feet  deep. 

To  render  this  feat  even  more  dangerous,  the  wind  had 
increased,  making  it  difficult  to  keep  one's  equilibrium 
while  balancing  one's  self  across  this  icy  knife-back. 

At  five  minutes  to  ten  o'clock,  a.m.,  on  Jan.  2,  1875, 
we  five  mortals  were  standing  on  the  top  of  the  Gross 
Glockner,  having  successfully  accomplished  a  feat,  which, 
as  my  guides  afterwards  hinted  to  me,  they  would  not 
repeat  for  five  hundred  florins  each.  The  men  dropped 
upon  their  knees,  and  offered  up  a  short  prayer,  —  a  pro- 
ceeding quite  unusual  with  these  fearless  fellows,  showing 


WINTER  ASCENT  OF  THE  GROSS  GLOCKNER.      373 

more  than  any  thing  else  that  the  dangers  we  had  passed 
through  were  exceptionally  great. 

The  cold  had  abated,  —  6°  R.,  or  iS°  Fah.,  was  quite 
bearable,  but  not  sufficient  to  thaw  our  provisions,  which 
were  frozen  as  hard  as  stone.  The  strong  schnapps  even 
was  in  a  half-frozen  state  ;  and  considering  the  bad  nature 
of  the  descent,  and  our  exhausted  condition,  we  refrained 
from  taking  any  for  fear  of  evil  consequences.  The  meat, 
tea,  and  wine,  of  which  we  stood  so  much  in  need,  had 
to  be  returned  untasted  into  our  spacious  "  Riicksacke." 

My  card,  with  the  date  of  the  ascent  and  the  names 
of  the  four  intrepid  guides  scrawled  as  legibly  as  my  stiff 
fingers  and  shaking  frame  allowed,  I  deposited  in  the 
cairn  that  had  been  raised  by  preceding  mountaineers. 
A  large  flagstaff,  lying  buried  under  the  ice  and  drifted 
snow,  was  dug  out,  and,  after  having  fixed  upon  it  the 
remnants  of  a  red  flag,  was  stuck  into  a  deep  hole  made 
by  means  of  our  sharp-pronged  Alpenstocke. 

The  \'iew  was  magnificent  beyond  description.  The 
sky  was  of  a  dark,  dead  blue,  and  the  air  so  clear  that 
we  could  make  out  peaks  never  yet  seen  from  the  Gross 
Glockner. 

The  Ortler  and  the  Bernina  group,  invisible  in  summer 
from  this  height,  were  quite  distinct,  and  seemed  hardly 
farther  off  than  the  Marmolatta  peak  (in  the  Dolomites) 
in  summer. 

Far  beyond  the  Bernina  we  perceived  rows  of  glittering 
rose-tinted  giant  peaks,  though  of  course  the  great  dis- 
tance made  it  impossible  to  determine  their  names. 

Vv'e  remained  about  thirty-five  minutes  on  our  ele\'ated 
post,  and  then,  waving  our  hats  and  shouting  one  simul- 
taneous "  jodler  "  as  a  last  gi^eeting  to  the  flag  fluttering 
in  the  v/ind,  we  turned  our  backs  on  that  well-known 
cairn,  thirteen  thousand  feet  over  the  level  of  the  sea. 

By  means  of  my  telescope  I  had  noticed  groups  of 
people  standing  in  front  of  the  Heiligen  Blut  Church 
Ij'ing,  as  it  were,  at  our  very  feet,  and  needing  but  one 
giganiic  leap  of  some  eight  or  nine  thousand  feet  to 
reach  it.      \Vliat  their  feelings  were  on  seeing  our  flag, 


3  74    GADDIA'GS    WITH  A    PRIMITIVE   PEOPLE. 

none  but  a  jealously-inclined  mountaineer  can  imagine. 
Three  consecutive  winters  had  they  tried  to  vanquish  the 
Gross  Glockner  ;  and  though  they  once  got  as  far  as  the 
slopes  leading  to  the  Klein  Glockner,  they  had  on  every 
occasion  failed  to  reach  the  spot  we  were  just  about 
leaving. 

These  attempts,  I  may  add,  had  been  made  in  winters 
when  a  much  smaller  quantity  of  snow  made  high  eleva- 
tions less  inaccessible.  As  we  looked  down  the  ten-ibly 
steep  slopes,  which  were  one  mass  of  ice,  it  seemed  im- 
possible, unprovided  as  we  were  with  any  instrument  to 
cut  proper  steps,  or  to  anchor  ourselves  effectually  if  one 
of  us  slipped,  to  get  down  in  safety.  "  One  slip,  and  we 
are  killed,"  were  the  words  with  which  dauntless  Peter 
took  the  lead  down  that  icy  incline. 

With  the  greatest  caution,  and  making  use  of  our 
crampons,  which  latter  were  of  the  most  vital  service,  we 
managed  to  reach  the  "  Adlersruhe."  From  that  point 
to  Kals  we  met  with  nothing  extraordinary,  excepting  one 
avalanche.  It  seems  strange  that  in  ascending  in  the 
cold  night  we  had  seen  three  of  them,  while  on  our  re- 
turn in  daytime,  with  a  bright  sun  shining,  we  only  came 
across  one. 

So  eager  were  we  to  reach  Kals  and  announce  our  suc- 
cess, that  our  descent  from  the  ''Adlersruhe"  was  accom- 
plished in  double-quick  time,  the  evening-prayer  bell  (four 
o'clock)  ringing  in  our  victorious  return  to  Kals.  Our 
flag  had  been  seen,  and  a  large  crowd  of  inhabitants 
came  to  meet  us  and  proffer  us  their  congratulations. 

A  fast  of  nearly  eighteen  hours,  and  gi-eat  bodily  exer- 
tions, had  left  us  famishing.  Our  attacks  on  food  of 
every  sort  were  closely  watched  and  admired  by  a 
crowded  audience  in  the  Glockner  Wirth's  cozy  parlor. 


APPENDIX. 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  ZVi 


APPENDIX. 

ADDITIONAL   DETAILS   OF   MARRIAGE    CUSTOMS. 

T  N  T}Tol  we  ha\'e  to  note  a  diversity  of  wedding  cus- 
I  toms,  inexplicable,  did  we  not  take  into  consideration 
the  numerous  quite  distinct  races  of  the  population,  each 
having  some  special  traits.  We  find  that  tlie  inhabitants 
of  the  Unterinnthal  are  in  character  quite  a  different 
race  from  the  Pusterthaler  or  Oberlander  peasant.  The 
Unterinnlhalers  enjoy  the  reputation  of  being  the  gay- 
est and  liveliest ;  a  circumstance  which  is  to  be  brought 
into  intimate  connection  with  the  more  enlightened  spirit 
of  the  population  in  all  matters  concerning  religion.  The 
clergy  have  less  power,  and,  with  the  exception  of  one  or 
two  localities,  refrain  from  interfering  in  questions  of 
social  amusements,  provided  they  are  kept  within  the 
bounds  of  propriety. 

In  other  parts  of  T}to1,  especially  in  the  Oetzthal,  Ober- 
innthal,  Passeierthal,  and  Vintshgau,  the  clergy  exercise 
an  unlimited  power.  Most  of  The  quaint  old  customs 
have  been  suppressed  by  them,  and  dancing  and  merry- 
makings of  every  sort  are  strictly  prohibited.  The  dan- 
cing at  weddings  is  confined  to  a  few  ceremonious  evolu- 
tions, headed  by  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  and  ending 
with  their  departure.  We  find  none  of  that  gay  rollicking 
mirth  of  the  northern  districts  of  T)to1.  Carnival,  again, 
in  other  parts  a  period  of  general  merry-makings,  is  bare 
of  all  those  quaint  and  highly  characteristic  amusements 
that  were,  some  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  common  to 
every  valley.  Strange  to  say,  the  last  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury has  worked  all  these  changes.     It  would  lead  too  far, 


378  APPENDIX. 

to  fathom  the  cause  of  this  strict  surveillance  on  the  part 
of  the  clergy ;  for  apparently  a  casual  dance  or  a  harm- 
less masquerade,  in  which  local  events  are  caricatured,  do 
not  stand  in  any  very  intimate  connection  with  the  power 
of  the  Church. 

The  Ampezzo  valley  in  South  Tyrol  is  distinguished 
for  several  odd  customs  of  which  no  trace  is  to  be  found 
in  the  rest  of  Tyrol.  First  of  all,  it  is  the  circumstance 
that  by  mutual  consent  all  weddings  that  are  going  to  be 
held  within  a  certain  period  are  arranged  to  take  place  on 
one  and  the  same  day.  Thus  we  find  that  not  infre- 
quently eight  or  nine  "Hochzeiten"  are  held  at  the 
same  time,  —  of  course  in  carnival  if  it  is  any  ways  pos- 
sible. 

The  bride  is  called  "  Novice  "  from  the  day  of  her  be- 
trothal to  that  of  her  wedding,  and  receives,  either  at  the 
hands  of  her  parents  or  of  those  of  the  "Vicar,"  a 
female  guardian  of  her  honor,  who  goes  by  the  comical 
name  of  "Brontola,"  "the  growling  bear."  This  female 
never  leaves  the  side  of  her  charge  for  the  whole  time  of 
the  betrothal.  The  bride  may  not  show  her  face  outside 
of  the  house  without  her  at  her  side  ;  and  she  it  is  who 
regulates  the  visits  of  the  bridegroom,  much,  as  we  may 
suppose,  to  his  chagrin. 

How  very  strict  a  watch  is  kept  over  the  hapless  bride, 
may  be  conceived  when  we  hear  that  a  fine  of  ten  florins 
is  inflicted  if  the  bride  is  discovered  giving  her  betrothed 
a  kiss. 

On  the  Saturday  preceding  the  Sunday  on  which  the 
bans  of  the  several  couples  are  proclaimed  for  the  first 
time,  the  village  sexton  has  to  perform  an  important  offi- 
cial act.  At  an  early  hour  of  the  day  the  several  brides, 
accompanied  by  their  "  Brontolas,"  meet  in  the  church. 
The  sexton,  arrayed  in  his  robes  of  dingy  white,  puts  him- 
self at  the  head  of  the  file,  and  leads  them  three  times 
round  the  church.  At  every  altar  the  procession  halts, 
and  a  certain  number  of  prayers  are  prayed.  When  this 
has  been  performed,  the  sexton  leads  the  file  to  the  Vicar- 
age close  by,  where  the  maidens  have  to  pass  a  species 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  379 

of  examination  by  the  reverend  gentleman.  They  have 
to  know  the  Creed,  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  the 
usual  and  "  unusual "  prayers  of  the  Holy  Roman  Catho- 
lic Church. 

The  examination  passed,  the  whole  party  adjourns  to 
the  village  inn,  where  an  ample  meal  and  full  glasses 
await  the  fagged-out  sexton  and  his  female  troupe. 

Unlike  some  other  districts,  where  the  brides  are  not 
present  when  their  bans  are  published,  they  are  required 
to  be  so  in  Ampezzo. 

On  the  first  Sunday  their  dresses  are  green,  and  their 
hats  are  trimmed  with  the  same  color ;  on  the  second 
Sunday  they  appear  all  blue ;  on  the  third  and  last  they 
again  wear  green  apparel.  On  these  tliree  important 
days  the  "  Brontolas,"  who  of  course  accompany  the  fair 
ones  to  church,  distribute,  at  the  end  of  the  service, 
cakes  and  buns  to  their  charges. 

At  an  early  hour  on  the  important  morning,  the  brides 
are  called  for,  at  their  respective  homes,  by  the  best  men 
and  the  Brontolas. 

They  all  assemble  in  the  parish  church,  and  by  ten 
o'clock  the  sacred  ceremony  is  over. 

llien  they  repair  to  the  Vicarage  close  by,  where  they 
pay  their  respects  to  the  Vicar  and  Co-operator,  and  in- 
vite them  humbly  to  partake  of  their  meal,  which  request 
the  holy  men  comply  with  by  visiting  each  house  in  rota- 
tion. If  the  couples  are  numerous  and  live  far  apart,  the 
Co-operator  takes  the  half  of  the  invitations  upon  himself, 
while  the  Vicar  attends  to  the  other  couples,  according  to 
the  neighborhood. 

On  issuing  forth  from  the  Vicarage,  the  party  separate, 
and  each  couple,  accompanied  by  the  Brontola,  the  best 
man,  and  the  select  few  who  have  been  invited,  repair  to 
the  house  of  the  bride's  parents. 

In  Pergine  some  ten  or  twenty  years  ago,  a  very  strange 
and  highly  interesting  series  of  customs  was  rigorously 
observed.  Of  late  it  has  disappeared ;  for  one  of  the 
former  priests  in  that  valley,  on  discovering  that  the  cus- 
tom was  doubtlessly  of  heathen  origin,  moved   heaven 


3S0  APPENDIX. 

and  earth  to  suppress  it.  The  couple  about  to  be  mar- 
ried were  accompanied  on  their  walk  to  the  parish  church 
on  the  wedding  morning  by  two  "Brumoli,"  or  best  men, 
one  of  whom  held  a  stick  in  his  hand,  at  one  end  of 
which  was  attached  a  live  hen.  The  other  carried  a 
complete  spinning-wheel  with  its  distaff  wound  round 
with  flax.  The  hen  was  the  symbol  of  a  careful  house- 
wife and  a  loving  mother,  the  other  an  emblem  of  assid- 
uous application  to  the  cares  of  the  household. 

When  the  holy  knot  was  tied,  the  couple,  accompanied 
by  the  two  Brumoli,  repaired  to  the  bridegroom's  house. 
On  approaching  the  latter,  the  house-door  was  suddenly 
slammed  in  their  faces,  and  the  party  came  to  a  sudden 
standstill. 

A  very  quaint  conversation  between  the  m.other-in-law 
inside  the  door,  and  the  daughter-in-law  outside  the 
porch,  now  occurred. 

The  girl  commenced  the  proceeding  by  reciting,  in  a 
loud  voice,  a  set  speech  coinposed  of  words  in  an  un- 
known language,  which  nobody  understood.  For  centu- 
ries this  formula  had  been  in  constant  use  on  like  occa- 
sions without  its  meaning  being  ever  known  ;  and  it  is 
highly  probable  it  would  have  remained  unknown  to  the 
present  day,  had  not  a  certain  famous  linguist,  a  native 
of  Trent,  fully  unraveled  the  mystery  by  discovering  that 
the  words  used  were  the  very  ones  recited  by  the  Romans 
on  like  occasions.  The  well-knov\'n  "  Ubi  tu  Cajus,  ego 
Cajer,"  spoken  by  the  Roman  bride,  had  been  metamior- 
phosed  in  the  course  of  the  sixteen  or  eighteen  centuries 
into  a  sequel  of  words,  the  import  of  which  no  one  knew 
or  cared  to  know. 

The  mother-in-law  then  asked  the  bride  what  she  vv'as 
doing  at  the  side  of  her  son.  "  She  wanted  to  enter  the 
house,  as  her  son's  lawful  wife,"  the  latter  answered ; 
whereupon  the  former  demanded  to  know  by  what  right 
she  was  the  lawful  wife  of  her  son,  and  what  traits  of 
character,  favorable  and  unfavorable,  she  would  confess 
to  possess.  "  By  the  rites  of  the  holy  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  I  am  your  son's  lawfully  wedded  wife,  in  life  and 


LfETAILS   OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  38 1 

in  death  inseparable  from  him.  I  mean  to  be  true  to  my 
master  (the  husband).  I  intend  to  revere  his  parents  ;  I 
promise  to  love  his  brothers  and  sisters ;  I  am  pious, 
I  am  diligent,  and  I  am  accustomed  to  the  hardships  of 
life,"  was  the  wife's  quaintly-put  answer,  which  removed 
the  fictitious  doubts  entertained  b}-  the  dame,  who  now 
flung  open  the  doors  of  the  house,  and  welcomed  her 
dutiful  daughter  with  a  motherly  embrace. 
"'  In  the  Groden  valley,  to  give  our  last  instance  of  South 
Tyrolese  customs,  the  inhabitants  have  retained  the  lan- 
guage, the  quaint  institutions  and  laws,  of  their  forefathers, 
in  a  remarkably  perfect  manner.  The  weddings  there 
arc  marked  by  a  spirit  of  ceremonious  pomp  quite  at 
variance  with  the  mirth  and  gayety  of  North  Tyrolese 
Hochzieten. 

As  an  instance  of  this,  we  may  allude  to  the  speech  of 
the  best  man  —  here  he  is  called  Prim  Dunsell  —  v/hen 
calling  for  the  bride  at  the  paternal  house  on  the  wedding 
morn  :  — 

"  I  am  aware  that  a  precious  jewel,  owned  by  my  friend 
the  bridegroom,  has  been  left  in  your  charge  and  care  ;  I 
have  come  to  fetch  that  jewel ;  I  hope,  therefore,  that 
the  honest  guardians  will  deliver  it  to  me  without  let  or 
hinderance,  to  the  end  that  I  may  lead  her  into  the  pres- 
ence of  her  Almighty  Creator,  Who,  if  He  deem  her  a 
fit  subject  for  His  mercy  and  bieufaisance,  will  unite  her 
to  a  male  *  for  the  good  of  mankind.'  " 

Though  Groden  and  Ampezzo  are  neighboring  valleys, 
the  institution  of  Crontola,  and  the  fines  in  connection 
with  this  office,  are  unknown  in  the  former,  and  a  bridal 
kiss  is  considered  there  no  transgression  of  the  municipal 
laws.  In  the  same  way  the  betrothed  couple  may  appear 
in  each  other's  company  whenever  they  please ;  local 
etiquette,  in  fact,  requires  that  the  couple  should  not  be 
present  in  their  village  church  on  the  Sunday  their  banns 
are  published  for  the  first  time  ;  they  have  to  repair  to 
the  next  village  church,  often  many  hours  distant. 

On  the  second  Sunday  the  betrothed  appear  in  grand 
state,  she  with  a  blue  dress  with  red  sleeves,  and  a  green 


3S2  APPENDIX. 

hat,  and  accompanied  by  her  Prima  Dunsella ;  he  with 
ribbons  and  flowers  on  his  hat. 

During  the  week  preceding  the  ''  third  "  Smiday,  the 
couple  dressed  in  black  go  their  round  of  visits  of  invita- 
tion. Their  first  call  is  invariably  to  the  Vicar  and  his 
assistant  Co-operator.  Custom  requires  that  they  should 
shape  their  invitation  in  a  Latin  verse  of  some  eight  hues  ; 
this  verse  is  the  same  as  was  in  use  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, but,  owing  to  the  circumstance  that  Latin  is  of  course 
an  unknown  tongue  to  the  populace,  the  words  have 
gradually  been  so  much  changed  and  adapted  to  the 
local  idiom  that  when  the  verse  was  on  one  occasion 
repeated  to  me,  I  did  not  understand  one  single  word. 

The  presence  of  the  Vicar  or  the  Co-operator  at  the 
wedding-meal  is  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  the 
affianced  :  the  people  believe  that  if  they  are  absent  it  is 
an  infallible  token  that  the  couple  never  will  have  occa- 
sion for  the  services  of  the  priest ;  i.e.,  that  their  married 
life  will  remain  issueless,  and  that  they  both  will  die,  if 
not  of  a  violent,  of  a  sudden  death. 

The  Tuesday  following  the  third  Sunday  is  the  day 
fixed  for  the  wedding ;  the  friends  of  the  bridegroom 
repair  to  the  latter's  house,  while  those  of  the  bride  has- 
ten to  keep  her  company  in  her  paternal  domicile.  In 
both  houses  a  sumptuous  breakfast  is  served,  after  which 
the  best  man,  —  Prim  Dunsell,  —  the  guest  of  the  bride- 
groom, leaves  the  gay  company  in  order  to  call  for  the 
bride,  which  he  does  in  the  way  we  have  described. 

The  whole  company  then  repair  to  the  church,  where 
the  Vicar  unites  the  couple,  let  us  hope  "  for  the  benefit 
of  mankind." 

A  cereiTionious  procession  is  then  formed,  and  proceeds 
to  the  roomy  village  inn.  The  sumptuous  meal,  consist- 
ing of  rich  viands,  awaits  them  already,  and  the  whole 
party  sits  down  to  it  strictly  according  to  the  custom  of 
centuries  ;  the  Vicar  to  the  right,  the  Co-operator  to  the 
left  of  the  bride.  The  orderly,  not  to  say  ceremonious 
way  in  which  the  meal  is  conducted,  renders  it  a  dull 
affair  withal.     The  mirth  and  hilarity,  which  in  other  parts 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  383 

of  the  country  give  zest  to  the  meal  and  drink,  arc  sadly 
wanting. 

We  have  once  already  remarked  v/hat  an  important 
role  kraut  (cabbage)  plays  in  country  weddings  ;  and  it 
is  singular  that  even  in  Groden,  so  totally  different  from 
the  German  district  of  T)to1,  we  find  that  the  dance, 
which  takes  place  about  the  middle  of  the  meal,  when  a 
huge  dish  of  this  vegetable  is  placed  on  the  table,  goes 
by  the  name  of  Bal  du  Krauf,  in  other  words  the  cab- 
bage dance.  At  the  termination  of  the  meal,  the  Prim 
Dunsell  rises,  and  in  a  well-composed  speech  thanks  the 
company  for  having  assisted  at  the  wedding.  The 
Vicar  —  or  if  he  is  not  present,  the  Co-operator  —  has  to 
answer  this  speech  by  a  sort  of  instructive  lecture  on  the 
blessings  of  married  life,  on  the  reciprocal  duties  of  hus- 
band and  wife,  &c.  After  this  the  company  rise  from  the 
table,  and  adjourn  to  the  dancing-room.  The  couple 
then  leave,  in  order  to  invite  their  parents,  who,  accord- 
ing to  the  ancient  custom  of  the  valleys,  may  not  be 
present  at  the  wedding  festivities.  When  they  return  in 
their  company,  a  substantial  meal  is  placed  before  them, 
while  the  young  couple  leave  them  to  enjoy  a  few  of  the 
solemn  dances  which  are  going  on  in  the  adjoining  room. 

At  ten  o'clock  husband  and  wife  depart,  and  with  them 
the  whole  company  disperse  to  assemble  again  on  the 
following  day  (if  the  couple  are  well-to-do)  in  the  same 
inn,  to  enjoy  a  second  dinner,  on  a  small  scale.  This 
meal,  as  its  chief  dish  is  a  sort  of  pancake,  is  termed 
"  Ueves  in  te  Schmauz  "  —  eggs  in  butter. 

In  the  districts  adjoining  the  Bavarian  Highlands,  a 
very  ancient  and  common  custom  is  "  Auf  B'schau 
gehen ;  "  i.e.,  inspection  of  the  houses  belonging  to  the 
parents  of  bride  and  bridegroom.  It  sounds  strange  to 
our  ears,  so  rigorously  trained  in  the  conventional  usages 
of  modern  life,  to  hear  that  this  somewhat  ostentatious 
custom,  which  takes  place  some  weeks  before  the  betroth- 
al, purports  to  satisfy  the  parents'  mercenary  anxiety  re- 
specting each  other's  stability  and  worthiness  of  the  honor 
about  to  be  conferred  on  tlicm. 


384  APPENDIX. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  case  of  a  rich  peasant,  proved 
possessor  of  an  ample  house,  perhaps  containing  even  a 
spare  bedroom  fitted  up  v/ith  such  splendor  as  a  ward- 
robe and  a  veritable  looking-glass,  —  luxuries  vt^hich  ren- 
der it  worthy  to  shelter  the  portly  village  priest  himself,  — 
not  to  mention  the  fact  that  he  is  owner  of  twenty  or 
thirty  head  of  fine  cattle  and  of  two  Alps  on  yonder 
mountain  ;  for  a  man  of  his  stamp,  we  say,  it  would  hard- 
ly do  to  allow  his  son,  the  heir  to  all  these  riches,  to  marry 
the  daughter  of  his  unfortunate  neighbor,  whose  house 
has  no  top-story  to  it,  and  v/ho  owns  but  one  Alp  upon 
which  to  graze  his  herd,  consisting  of  just  half  the  num- 
ber of  his  own. 

These  important  family  discussions  are  no  trifling 
affairs,  for  though  you  may  have  been  hundreds  of  times 
over  your  neighbor's  house  from  kitchen  to  garret,  yet 
again,  for  the  hundred-and-first  time  must  you  inspect 
minutely  every  article,  useful  or  ornamental,  which  the 
house  contains.  Your  scrutinizing  glance  has  to  rest 
upon  the  milk-pail  or  water-bucket  as  if  it  were  the  first 
time  in  your  life  you  had  seen  these  utensils. 

The  inspection  is  formally  announced  days  and  weeks 
before ;  so  that,  what  with  incessant  scouring,  cleaning, 
settling,  mending,  and  repairing,  the  house  is  more  like  a 
Dutch  cottage  home  than  a  Tyrolese  peasant's  habitation, 
where  cleanliness  is  not  always  a  primary  object  of  its 
mistress. 

The  cattle-shed  and  its  inmates  are  matters  of  great 
consideration.  Every  cow  is  examined,  every  calf  looked 
at. 

When  the  survey  is  finally  completed,  the  company 
assemble  in  the  living-room.  Here  v/e  hear  how  much 
our  poorer  neighbor  is  inclined  to  give  in  money  and 
kind  as  his  daughter's  dowry.  A  cow  more  or  less,  a 
couple  of  "  teners  "  (ten-florin  notes)  on  or  off,  will  de- 
cide the  fate  of  the  young  couple. 

Etiquette  forbids  us  to  say  that  we  agree  or  that  v/e  do 
not  agree  with  the  proposals  of  our  neighbor.  At  the 
most  we  may  opine  that  five  cows  are  too  few,  he  must 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  385 

give  seven ;  or,  that  we  won't  pay  for  the  wedding  ex- 
penses, he  must  do  that. 

We  leave  our  neighbor  without  imparting  to  him  by 
word  or  mien  to  what  determination  we  have  come.  If 
the  match  is  "  no  go,"  lie  won't  hear  any  more  about  it, 
the  matter  drops,  and  nobody  speaks  of  the  abortive  in- 
spection. If,  on  the  contrar}^  we  give  our  consent,  the 
bridegroom,  dressed  in  his  best  garment,  and  his  hat 
decorated  with  ribbons  and  flowers,  while  a  bunch  of 
rosemary  is  sticking  in  his  buttonhole,  repairs  on  a  Sun- 
day afternoon,  in  his  official  capacity,  to  the  father  of 
the  object  of  his  desires.  He  announces  to  him  that  the 
thing  is  settled,  that  his  family  has  consented  to  the 
union.     This  is  called  ratifying. 

From  the  father  he  hastens  to  the  daughter,  to  present 
her  the  "  arrha,"  earnest-money,  the  amount  of  which 
varies  according  to  the  wealth  of  the  bridegroom.  Gen- 
erally about  fi\-e  to  ten  silver  thalers  are  pressed  into  the 
hand  of  the  bride. 

This  clinches  the  business ;  and  one  hears  very  rarely 
of  the  "  arrha  "  being  returned,  a  circumstance  which 
casts  a  lasting  slur  upon  both  parties. 

This  money  gift  is  followed  by  the  so-called  "  Yes- 
pancake,"  of  which  both  bride  and  bridegroom  partake. 

Both  these  strange  practices  can  be  traced  back  to  the 
eleventh  century. 

In  an  interesting  wedding  "inspeximus"  of  that  cen- 
tury, preserved  in  the  Munich  Archives,  both  customs  are 
mentioned. 

The  best  man,  in  the  sense  we  have  employed  this 
word  throughout  the  text,  is  no  less  an  important  person- 
age in  the  Bavarian  Highlands  than  elsewhere  in  the  Alps. 
Farther  north,  towards  Munich,  we  find  that  profession- 
als are  employed.  The  Highlander  sports,  as  a  very  ap- 
propriate token  of  his  craft,  a  long  staff,  bent  on  one  end 
similar  to  our  hockey-sticks. 

"  Hooking  "  is  a  procedure  in  which  these  marriage 
brokers  must  be  adepts.  They  are  not  only  undisputed 
masters  of  the  field,  but  they  can  give  their  frolicsome 


386  APPENDIX. 

fancy  free  reins,  playing  as  many  tricks  and  practical 
jokes  as  they  choose. 

Not  a  few  of  them  are  considered  by  their  fellow- 
villagers  walking  marriage-brokers.  Many  a  timid  man  — 
—  for  there  are  timid  men  among  the  peasantry,  just  as 
well  as  in  any  other  class  of  society  —  has  been  furnished 
with  a  wife  by  these  confidential  go-betweens. 

For  the  ordinary  business  routine  to  him,  he  is  remu- 
nerated for  his  trouble  according  to  a  standard  rate. 
Thus,  for  instance,  he  will  receive  in  the  Friedberg  dis- 
tricts four  kreutzers  (about  twopence)  for  every  guest  he 
invites ;  in  Traungau  he  gets  about  half  a  crown  per 
diem  when  he  is  out  on  his  round  of  visits  of  invitations, 
besides  which  each  guest  must  give  him  a  present  of  one 
penny ;  in  other  districts,  as,  for  instance,  in,  Ampes  and 
Chiemgau,  he  is  paid  in  kind,  —  a  new  shirt,  one  peck  of 
oats,  and  one  of  Indian  corn  being  the  usual  fee  for  his 
missions  to  the  numerous  wedding-guests,  whose  habita- 
tions are  spread  about  over  a  large  expanse  of  ground. 

The  number  of  the  wedding  guests,  and  their  connec- 
tion with  either  the  bride  or  bridegroom,  vary  according 
to  the  wealth  of  the  contracting  parties  and  to  the  locality. 
In  the  remote  little  frontier  valleys  of  Bavaria  and  Tyrol 
the  whole  village  is  invited,  and  every  house-owner  sends 
at  least  one  member  of  his  household  to  represent  the 
family  at  the  festival. 

The  farther  out  one  gets  towards  the  plains,  the  more 
restricted  is  the  number,  culminating  in  some  places  north 
of  Munich,  where  only  the  very  next  relations  of  the 
couple  are  invited. 

In  the  Bavarian  Highlands  and  districts  adjoining 
Tyrol,  a  "poor  "  wedding  will  consist  of  about  forty  invited 
guests,  a  "  middling  "  one  of  about  ninety,  and  a  "rich  " 
one  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred.  In  Tyrol 
proper  the  same  numbers  hold  good,  with  the  exception 
of  the  very  poorest  valleys,  or  those  not  containing  more 
than  fifty  or  sixty  inhabitants  all  told. 

The  guests  are  not  counted  each  singly,  but  according 
to  the  number  of  tables  (each  to  seat  twelve)  that  are 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  387 

brought  into  requisition.  Thus  one  hears  frequently  a 
wedding  described  as  being  one  of  ''  twelve  or  fifteen 
tables." 

A  very  nice  point,  and  one  that  forms  part  of  our 
friend  the  best  man's  heterogeneous  duties,  is  the  ar- 
rangement of  guests  at  the  various  tables  according  to 
rank,  wealth,  or  position.  Here  again  we  find  a  variety 
of  customs  in  vogue  in  different  localities.  In  some 
places  thus,  for  instance,  in  the  Caar-river  district,  the 
bride  and  two  bridesmaids  sit  at  the  "  bridal  table  "  (the 
honorary  board),  while  the  bridegroom  and  the  wretched 
best  man  are  obliged  to  stow  themselves  in  some  modest 
out-of-the-way  corner  near  one  of  the  last  tables. 

Differ  as  customs  may,  one  rule  holds  good  througliout 
the  whole  country ;  that  is  the  hospitable  reception  of  the 
"  best  man  "  by  the  family  he  is  about  to  invite  to  the 
wedding  of  his  "  patron." 

In  some  places,  as  for  instance  in  Traungau,  the  bride 
is  the  first  person  invited.  A  quaint  custom  prevails  there 
in  connection  with  this  invitation  to  her  own  wedding. 

As  soon  as  the  important  personage,  attended  by  his 
clown,  the  hen-prigger,  are  seen  to  approach  the  house, 
the  bride  hastens  to  hide  herself.  On  entering  the  room, 
the  "  Procurator,"  for  thus  he  is  called,  looks  about  him. 
and  snuffing  the  air,  he  exclaims,  — 

"  Methinks,  methinks  I  scent  the  smell  of  a  bride." 

A  search  in  the  whole  house  is  instituted,  and  finally 
the  blushing  lass  is  discovered,  and  is  borne  in  triumph 
into  the  chief  room.  Here  she  at  first  plays  bashful,  pre- 
tends to  be  deaf,  or  not  to  understand  the  Procurator's 
language.  At  last  she  relents,  and  listens  quietly  to  the 
ceremonious  speech  addressed  to  her. 

In  other  districts,  again,  each  invitation  involves  a  de- 
lay of  two  days,  it  being  the  custom  that  the  Procurator 
is  strictly  prohibited  to  allude  to  the  purport  of  his  visit 
the  first  day.  He  has  to  converse  of  every  thing  else  but 
tiie  real  cause  of  his  coming ;  and  though  everybody 
knows  of  course  the  object  of  his  visit,  he  has  to  spend 
the  evening  in  their  company,  eating  and  drinking,  and 


388  APPEiYDlX. 

must  pass  the  night  under  the  peasant's  hospitable  roof. 
Next  morning,  after  a  soHd  breakfast  has  been  poHshed 
off,  lie  may  revert  to  the  cause  of  his  coming  by  repeating 
the  set  speech  for  these  occasions,  in  which  the  accurate 
])rice  of  the  wedding  meal  is  generally  also  mentioned. 
The  invited  person  has  to  feign  the  most  intense  amaze- 
ment and  wonder  at  this  piece  of  news,  and,  as  becomes 
a  modest  character,  declines  the  honor  of  assisting  at  the 
festivities. 

The  Procurator's  powers  of  persuasion  now  come  into 
play;  the  peasant's  objections,  be  they  based  on  modesty, 
unworthiness  of  the  honor  bestowed,  or  on  the  ground 
that  he  is  no  relation  of  either  bride  or  bridegroom,  van- 
ish one  by  one,  and  finally  the  victim  signifies  his  willing- 
ness to  accept  the  inestimable  honor. 

On  the  Procurator's  return  from  his  invitation  trip,  the 
result  of  his  journey,  in  the  shape  of  the  number  of 
guests  who  he  thinks  will  attend,  is  immediately  commu- 
nicated to  the  landlord  of  the  inn  where  the  meal  is  to 
be  held. 

After  this  he  accompanies  the  betrothed  couple  to  the 
village  priest,  when  the  formal  betrothal  in  the  presence 
of  two  witnesses  takes  place.  They  receive  a  certificate 
from  the  Vicar,  and  with  it  they  repair  to  the  municipal 
authorities  of  the  district  —  very  frequently  a  day's  jour- 
ney off —  in  order  to  get  the  marriage-license,  a  matter 
of  some  difficulty  if  the  parties  are  both  poor. 

Up  to  a  few  years  ago  it  was  imperatively  necessary 
that  the  bridegroom  should  prove  the  possession  of  a 
homestead.  Now  it  suffices  if  he  can  show  that  he  is  in 
receipt  of  fixed  wages  which  suffice  for  the  modest  wants 
of  a  family.  Thus  a  man  earning  a  florin  (two  shillings) 
a  day,  all  the  year  round,  will  receive  the  desired  permis- 
sion ;  but  to  a  homeless  woodcutter,  for  instance,  earning 
the  same  sum  per  day,  but  only  for  six  or  seven  summer 
months,  it  will  be  refused  if  he  or  his  bride  have  not 
some  savings  in  addition.  It  seems,  perhaps,  very  easy 
to  be  able  to  prove  that  one  is  earning  a  florin  a  day  all 
the  year  round  ;  but  in  the  remote  glens  there  are  very 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  3S9 

few  indeed  who  can  say  it.  The  long  winters,  the  huge 
masses  of  snow,  burying  nature  under  a  deep  white  pall, 
are  insurmountable  impediments,  rendering  a  fixed  occu- 
pation throughout  the  year  nigh  an  impossibility.  Even 
the  tailor  and  cobbler,  if  the  village  does  boast  of  these 
artisans,  have  to  shut  up  shop  in  the  depth  of  winter,  and 
live  upon  the  savings  of  their  summer's  trade.  In  less 
remote  valleys,  it  is  of  course  dilTerent ;  and  a  fairly  dili- 
gent man,  who  has  learned  any  one  particular  craft,  can 
nowadays  marrj'  before  he  is  thirty. 

When  the  preparatory  formalities  with  priest  and  ma- 
gistrate have  been  all  settled,  the  "  Krautessen,"  cabbage 
dinner  —  a  customary  fete  in  many  of  the  north-western 
frontier  valleys  of  T}to1  —  is  held.  It  is  a  simple  meal 
in  the  village  inn,  at  which  bride,  bridegroom,  and  best 
man  meet.  A  dish  of  cabbage,  which  from  time  imme- 
morial is  a  symbol  of  married  life,  forms  the  chief  part  of 
it. 

A\Tien  the  dish  is  placed  on  the  table,  the  bride  asks  of 
her  betrothed,  — 

"  How  much  will  you  give  me  for  this  dish  of  cab- 
bage?" 

The  bridegroom  answers,  — 

"  I  want  none  ;  "  but  finally  relents,  and  lends  a  willing 
ear  to  the  entreaties  of  his  bride.  He  bids  a  florin  for 
the  cabbage. 

"That's  too  little;  I'll  give  two  for  it,"  retorts  the  best 
man. 

And  so,  after  several  bids,  the  unfortunate  bridegroom 
has  to  fork  out  some  eight  or  ten  florins,  which  are  handed 
to  the  smiling  lassie  bv  the  Kellnerm,  who  receives  the 
money  from  the  bridegroom. 

Formerly  these  meals  were  frequently  of  prodigious 
dimensions  j  and  the  assembled  guests,  if  the  bridegroom 
was  rich  and  could  afford  it,  bid  him  up  to  fifty  and  sixty 
florins. 

In  Bavaria,  besides  the  bride's  race,  other  outdoor 
games  are  also  frequently  held.  In  this  case,  the  bride's 
race  proper  is  limited  to  competitors  who  arc  of  the  same 


39°  APPENDIX. 

calling  as  the  bridegroom,  while  the  others  are  open  to 
all  comers. 

The  prizes  do  not  consist  in  money,  but  in  various 
presents.  The  first,  however,  is  invariably  the  same,  i.e., 
a  wooden  key,  carefully  gilt,  and  adorned  with  bright 
ribbons. 

The  bride's  race  is  an  institution  once  common  with 
all  Gennanic  tribes,  and  of  which  the  very  earliest  ac- 
counts are  in  existence.  Originally  it  was  a  race  for  the 
key  of  the  bridal  chamber,  in  which  the  bridegroom  par- 
ticipated. If  he  was  beaten,  he  had  to  pay  a  certain 
ransom  to  regain  possession  of  this  valuable  prize.  At 
"  silver  "  and  "  golden  "  weddings  this  race  is  never  omit- 
ted, although  only  old  men  are  permitted  to  compete. 

The  bride  is  generally  stolen  after  the  solemn  "  cabbage 
dish"  has  been  dispatched;  and  while  the  bridegroom's 
party  is  on  the  search  for  the  missing  fair  one,  the  other 
lassies  at  the  table  disappear  one  by  one.  They  are 
"  buying  their  boys,"  that  is,  purchasing  little  presents, 
generally  silk  handkerchiefs,  for  their  lovers,  which,  on 
their  return,  they  stealthily  pin  to  their  hats,  which  have 
been  thrown  aside  before  sitting  down  to  the  festive  board. 

This  "buying  her  boy  "  is  tire  open  acknowledgment 
of  her  lover,  who  now  has  to  pay  for  her  drink,  and  show 
his  gallantry  in  various  ways,  while  it  also  bestows  upon 
him  the  right  to  place  his  hat  upon  his  fair  partner's  head 
while  dancing.  He  is  from  thence  her  champion,  and  the 
slightest  sneer  against  her  must  be  taken  up  by  him  as  an 
insult  to  himself. 

While  the  fair  bride  is  salting  the  cabbage,  her  female 
companions  lay  aside  their  wedding  state,  re-appearing  in 
their  usual  Sunday  finery ;  the  picturesque  conical  green 
felt  hat  with  its  bold  eagle's  plume  and  silver  tassels  taking 
the  place  of  the  artificial-flower  wreaths,  which,  if  the  fair 
owner  has  a  "  boy  "  or  lover,  is  pinned  to  the  latter's  hat, 
thus  publicly  declaring  the  object  of  her  choice. 

I,ocal  etiquette  requires  that  the  bride,  or,  in  other 
places,  the  bridegroom,  should  not  participate  at  the  dan- 
cing.    In  the  former  case  she  keeps  on  her  wedding  finery, 


DETAILS  OF  MARRIAGE   CUSTOMS.  391 

and  forms  the  center  of  a  group  of  admiring  relatives, 
while  her  bridesmaids  and  the  rest  of  the  female  guests 
seek  recreation  in  the  arms  of  the  dancers. 

In  the  Bavarian  regions,  the  speech  of  the  Procurator 
before  the  "  Ehrengang  "  is  peculiar  and  in  rhymes.  He 
tells  the  company  of  an  accident  that  has  befallen  the 
voung  couple's  newly-bought  crockery  ware.  A  hen, 
followed  by  her  brood  of  thirty  chickens,  has  flown  into 
the  kitchen,  and  in  the  attempt  to  catch  the  invaders, 
every  pot,  cup  and  saucer  has  been  broken  into  thousand 
bits.  Would  the  honorable  company  not  give  a  trifle  each 
towards  buying  a  new  set  of  crockery?  \Vhcn  the  "  Ehren- 
gang," or  presentation,  is  concluded,  the  Procurator  rises 
again  and  reminds  the  company  that,  "  having  eaten  well 
and  drank  much,  the  poor  ought  not  to  be  forgotten." 
He  thereupon  places  a  large  dish,  covered  with  a  clean 
napkin,  on  the  table,  and  the  guests  place  their  alms  on  it. 


Stereotyped  by  Rand,  Avery,  <&^  Co.,  Boston. 


INDEX. 


Almanac,  the  peasant,  119. 
Alp-huts  and  their  occupants,  23 ; 

a  night  in  one,  94. 
Alps,  Northern  Chalk,  333. 
Altar-cloth,  Renaissance,  165. 
Amulets,  104. 
Apostles,   statues   of    the,    167 ; 

ludicrous  packing  of,  16S. 
Arrha,  the,  3S5. 
Art,  works  of,  154. 
Ascension  of   Christ,   the,    13S; 

accident    at   Halle,   13S ;  in  a 

bucket,  139. 
Ascent  of  the  Gross  Glockner  in 

winter,  365. 
Assembly,  annual,  at  St.   Leon- 

hardt,  149. 
Avalanches,  370. 

Bachelor  sins,  225. 

Battle  of  Berg  Isel,  196. 

Bear,  fight  with  a,  9. 

Bell,  St.  Anthony's,  226. 

Belle,    a    mountain,    213;     her 

work,   216;   her  wages,    217; 

her  virtue,  217  ;  her  hut,  218. 
Bells  rung  by  wind,  2 ;  rung  to 

protect  from  lightning,  106. 
Bcrchtl,  legend  of,  118. 
Bismarck,  his  love-affair  at  Mit- 

terbad,  313. 
Blackcock,  the,  86;  shooting,  87, 

92  ;  its  love-song,  88. 


Boner,  reference  to,  55. 

Boy,  praying  to   the  Virgin  for 

one,  49. 
Brandcnbcrg,  wedding  at,  230. 
Brontola,  the,  378. 
Brumoli,  380. 
Busk,    IVIiss,    reference    to    her 

"Valleys  of  Tirol,"  104. 
Butter,  19. 

Cabbage  at  weddings,  383,  389. 
Candlemas,  150. 
Capercali,  the,  86. 
Carnival,  weddings  in,  230. 
Carvers,  280;  story  of  one,  280. 
Castles,  Braunsberg,  story  of  the, 

loS  ;  Ililf  mir  Gott,  story  of, 

no;    Matzin,   defense   of,   3; 

Tratzberg,  60  ;  of  Tyrol,  5. 
Cats'  concert,  259. 
Cattle  trade,  11 ;  prices  of  Tyr- 

olese,  II. 
Chamois-stalking,  55;  preserves, 

56;  the  animal  described,  56; 

the  hunter  described,  58;  Pliny 

cited,  58;  at  a  saltlick,  341. 
Charcoal,  consecrated,  106. 
Christ,  cost  of,  279. 
Christening,  117. 
Christmas  in  a  chalet,  338. 
Churches,  design  and  ornaments 

of,   160;  contents   of  the  loft, 

163. 

393 


594 


INDEX. 


Churching  of  women,  1 19. 

Cleanliness,  a  priest's  exhorta- 
tion to,  lOI. 

Cloclc  and  priest,  anecdote  of  a, 
\^^  * 

Cockchafers  driven  off  by  holy 
water,  104. 

Condottieri,  the,  i. 

Conradin,  Hohenstauff,  4. 

Contest  called  "  Fingerhackeln," 

"  Costly  fare,"  306. 

Costume,  effect  of,  19. 

Couch,  a  curious,  319. 

Courtship  in  the  mountains,  212  ; 
in  the  villages,  223. 

Cow-fighting,  122. 

Cows,  black,  276;  profit  on,  275. 

Cradles,  presentation  of  at  wed- 
dings, 243. 

Crampons,  17. 

Curiosity-hunting,  153  ;  in  church- 
es, 160. 

Dances,  Tyrolese,  231;  various 
bridal,  244. 

Dancing-room,  258. 

Dare-devil  Hans,  184. 

Death  of  a  woodcutter,  115. 

Defferegger  valley,  male  emigra- 
tion from,  10. 

Devil,  casting  out  a,  102;  avoid- 
ance of  the  word,  105. 

Dirt,  the  healthful  kind,  209. 

Distiller}-,  an  illicit,  362. 

Doctor,  waiting  for,  186;  pay 
of,  186. 

Dress  of  holy  images,  122. 

Eagle,  the  golden,  316;  feathers, 

,  329;  robbing  its  nest,  317, 
331  ;  the  young,  328,  330. 

Ehrengang,  the,  241. 

Ehrentanz,  the,  244. 

Emigration  of  men  from  Def- 
feregger valley,  10. 

Epitaphs,  175. 

Eyes  scooiDcd  but  not  spoiled, 
17- 


Fairs,  277. 

Falls,  death  by,  18. 

Fashions,  stable,  277. 

Feathers,  eagle,  329 ;  as  a  gage 
of  battle,  14. 

Fiddlers,  paying  the,  245. 

Fights,  how  provoked,  14;  at 
dances,  234 ;  fatal,  235 ;  Sun- 
day, 15,  16. 

Fingerhackeln,  52. 

Forests,  management  of,  171. 

Frederic  of  Frundsberg,  4. 

Frundsberg  knights,  i. 

Game,  price  of  poached,  185. 
Gamsbart,  the,  14,  57. 
Genius  of  the  Tyrolese,  26. 
Gentiana,  roots  of,  202. 
Geselchtes,  240. 
Glacier,  the  Kodnitz,  370. 
Graben  described,  333. 
Gross  Glockner,  the,  365;  ascent 
of,  in  winter,  365. 

Hackbrettel,  the,  236. 
Hagglers,  15. 

Hardships  of  the  peasantry,  17. 
Hat,  placing  on  partner's  head, 

234- 
Hawkers,  173. 
Hofer,  Andreas,  16. 
Holy  dove,  a,  137. 

Images,  manufacture  and  sale  of, 

27S. 
Incantation,  bridal,  256. 
Infants,  unchristened,  118. 
Inn,  river  and  valley,  3,  5. 
Innkeepers,  character  of,  16. 
Inspection  of  houses  on  wedding 

occasions,  3S4. 

Jagers  of  the  Vomperloch,  344. 

Jesuits,  influence  of,  2S8 ;  van- 
dalism in  architecture,  163. 

Jodeling  as  a  signal,  201. 

Johann  K ,  the  stoiy  of  his 

life,  192. 

Joint-stock  companies,  10. 


INDEX. 


395 


Jokel,  a  poacher,  described,  351 ; 
his  history,  354 ;  his  capture 
and  death,  355. 

Kirchtag,  275. 
Kirschwasser,  173. 
Klein  Glockner,  the,  371. 
Knife,  use  of,  in  fights,  15,  235. 
Knight  Henry,  and  Jutta,  story 

of,  loS. 
Knight  lorg,  his  diary,  310. 
Knodel,  240. 

Lammergeier,  the,  316. 
Landscape,  a  North-Tyrolese,  6 ; 

South-Tyrolese,  7. 
Landsknechte,  the,  2. 
Leiter,  described,  350 ;  his  death, 

.351-. 
Licentiousness,  causes  of,  99. 

Lord-God-maker,  the,  278. 
Lottery,  a  soul's,  144. 
Love  and  turnips,  151. 
Love-draught,  a,  215. 
Lovers  in   Alp-huts,   25;  moun- 
tain, 212;  combats  of,  220. 

Maria   Stein,   225;    pilgrimages 

to,  227. 
Marker,  at  shooting-match,  2S2. 
Marriage,  209 ;  customs,  various, 

377     (see     also     Weddings)  ; 

licenses,  3S8. 
Marten,  one  shot,  95 ;  value,  96. 
Masciacum,  i. 

Matreier  Thorl,  adventure  in,  20. 
Maximilian  L,  his  chair,  i. 
Mines,  173. 

Miracle  of  the  carver,  2S0. 
Mitterbad,  adventure  at,  313. 
Money,  challenge  concerning,  51. 
Moos  village,  18. 
Mormons  described  in   a  letter, 

10. 
Musical  anecdote,  27, 

Novice,  a,  378. 

Oberau,  274. 


Ortler  Spitze,  the,  365. 
Owl's  chant,  the,  259. 

Pamphlet  on  water-cure,  307. 
Peasantry   compared  with   Eng- 
lish, 12;  with  other  countries, 

13- 

Pfjiffers,  baths  of,  310;  com- 
pared with  Monaco,  312. 

Pictures,  anecdote  of,  107 ;  col- 
lection by  priests,  123;  occa- 
sional masterpieces,  124. 

Pilgrimage  before  marriage,  225. 

Plays,  Mystery  and  Passion,  27, 
29 ;  Paradise,  30,  33 ;  descrip- 
tion of  a  party  going  to,  47. 

Poachers,  1S3  ;  one  turned  artist, 
60;  tights  with,  72,  1S3;  a 
wounded  one  desci-ibed.  Si  ; 
Jokel,  351. 

Politics  discussed  in  an  inn,  31. 

Praying  for  rain  or  for  drought, 
anecdote  of,  126. 

Priests,  classification  of,  11 1; 
incomes,  113;  one  as  an  inn- 
keeper, 125;  maintaining  ig- 
norance, 291  ;  occupations, 
121;  power,  98,  1 28;  as  rifle- 
shots, 287 ;  rivalry  between, 
129  ;  at  a  watering-place,  304. 

Prima  Dunsella,  382. 

Prim  Dunsell,  381. 

Processions,  126;  Palm  Sunday 
at  Lienz,  127. 

Property,  inheritance  and  divis- 
ion of,  172. 

Proverb,  a  German,  quoted,  208 ; 
of  steepness,  18. 

Quotation  from  Cowper,  162. 

Railway-ride,  a,  289. 

Rainier,  Ludwig,  his  adventures 

in  America,  9. 
Raubers,    at     shooting-matches, 

286. 
Rifle,  a  poacher's,  183. 
Rifle-range,  281 ;  shooting,  273, 

281. 


396 


INDEX. 


Roads,  ancient,  3. 

Roadside  slirines  and  tablets,  174. 

Robblers,  14;  maimed,  15. 

Rococo,  160. 

Rotlischilds  of  the  Middle  Ages, 

2. 
Riicksack,  a,  65. 

St.  Michael,  statue  of,  166,  169. 
Salting  of  the  kraut,  255. 
Saltlick,  visiting  one  for  chamois, 

340. 

Saussure,  reference  to,  55. 

Saviours  on  the  cross,  278. 

Schmarn,  181. 

Schnaddahiipfler,  a,  235,  275. 

Schoolmaster,  the  village,  char- 
acter and  duties,  131  ;  as  an 
agent  in  buying  curiosities, 
161 ;  as  a  barber  (anecdote), 
132;  salary,  134;  Georg  S. 
and  his  sister,  136. 

Schwaz,  village  of,  64. 

See  village,  18. 

Senners,  25. 

Sermons,  "  strong,"  305. 

Shooting,  accurate,  282,  285 ;  a 
match,  238. 

Shoe-slapping,  233. 

Shrines,  specialties  of,  127. 

Sins,  bachelor,  225. 

Slide,  a  perilous,  90 ;  with  a 
load  of  wood,  345;  with  hay, 
by  girls,  346. 

Smoking,  by  girls,  234. 

Smugglers,  190;  fights  with  cus- 
toms officers,  190,  197,  203 ; 
adventure  within  a  hut,  191 ; 
Johann  K ,  192  ;  his  ac- 
count of  himself,  195. 

Snow-bound,  363. 

Snowed  up,  an  old  couple,  362. 

Soldiering,  349. 

Song,  ballroom,  235. 

Stag,  adventure  with  a  "four- 
teener,"  1S7 ;  a  man  carrying 
a,  364. 

Steam,  explaining  it  to  a  peas- 
ant, 291. 


Stor,  on  the,  39. 

Superstition,  102 ;  various  ob- 
servances, 106;  concerning 
pictures,  107  ;  concerning  chris- 
tening, 118;  toads,  141. 

Targets,  239. 

Tea  in  a  woodcutter's  hut,  181. 
Theatrical  representations,  28. 
Thunderstorms,  Alpine,  178,  327, 

Tilemann,  Dr.,  his  pamphlet,  307. 

Timber-drifts,  176. 

Toads,  superstition  concerning, 
141. 

Tobacco,  smuggled,  in  a  wood- 
cutter's hut,  182. 

Tonerl,  old,  described,  347 ;  his 
ideas  of  Italy,  349. 

Toni  and  Moidl,  story  of,  61. 

Torches,  81. 

Tourists,  adventures  with,  20. 

Travels  of  the  Tyrolese,  9. 

Tyrol,  spelling  of,  xi. 

Tyrolese  character,  Lx.,  7,  13,  210. 

Ulrich's  defence  of  Castle  Mat- 
zin,  3. 

Vertu,  articles  of,  154. 

Vompergebirg,  the,  64. 

Vomperloch,  the,  333. 

Votive  offerings,  of  wax,  140; 
toads,  172;  a  cow,  143;  can- 
dles, 144 ;  tablet  (anecdote), 
145;  verses  quoted,  147;  for 
birth  of  children,  148  ;  wood- 
cutters', 175;  at  Maria  Stein, 
228  ;  at  watering-places,  305. 

Water-cure,  pamphlet  on,  307. 

Watering-place,  a,  289,  294; 
bath-house,  298  ;  devti-monde 
at,  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
311;  diary  at,  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  310;  family  going  to 
a,  292  ;  prices,  303 ;  priest  at, 
304 ;  religious  services,  305  ; 
votive  offerings,  305. 

Weddings,  observances  at,  barri- 


nVDEX. 


397 


cade,  263 ;  a  Bavarian,  262  ; 
best  man,  his  fees,  3S6;  his 
speeches,  251,  253,  257;  bless- 
ing the  house,  266;  a  blind, 
260;  bride  carried  off,  258; 
catechised,  379;  challenged, 
3S0;  dress  of,  379,  38 1 ;  bridal 
train  stopped,  261 ;  bride's 
race,  271,  3S9;  buying  a  boy, 
cock-dance,  267 ;  couch,  263, 
265;  cradle,  wood  for,  258; 
dance,  266;  day,  selection  of, 
267;  dinner,  238,  256;  dowry, 
262  ;  dowr)--cart,  262  ;  Ehren- 
gurtel,  the,  269;  favors,  271; 
feeding-in,  269 ;  a  golden,  237  ; 
house  besieged,  261 ;  invita- 
tions, 251,  387 ;  masses  and 
prayers,  266,  271 ;  money,  242  ; 
Morgensuppe,  26S ;  out-thank- 
ing, 26S;  presents,  243;  pro- 
cession, 255;  procurator,  271  ; 
salting  the  cabbage,  272 ;  a 
sham,   248;    the    train,    271; 


trinkgeld,  272;  wine  of  be- 
trothal, 224. 

Wiegenholz,  the,  258. 

W'ildheucr,  iS. 

Wines,  cheap,  348. 

Winter  mountaineering,  361. 

Witchcraft,  142. 

Wood-carving  at  Tratzbcrg,  60. 

Woodcutters,  Alpine,  171,  174; 
their  hut,  179;  as  poachers, 
183;  holidays,  1S4;  in  a  rail- 
way-carriage, 2S9 ;  wages,  185. 

Woodcutter's  hut  carried  away 
by  a  torrent,  1S5. 

Women,  doing  work  of  men,  10; 
treatment  of,  13. 

Yes-pancake,  the,  385. 

Zillerthal,  the,  15. 
Zirbentree,  the,  278. 
Zither,  the,  236. 
Zwerchbach,  the,  340. 
Zwerchbachhiitte,  the,  64. 


1/ 


205  00154  5175 


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